


The Spring of Burning Forests

by Blaire_Seton



Series: Geraskier for All Seasons [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Adventure & Romance, All the violence/abuse tags are here because of the antagonist, Angst, Angst and Drama, Animal abuse stuff is hunting related, Animals, Banter, Beta Read, Betaed, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood, Blood Loss, But only a bit, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Character Study, Crying Jaskier | Dandelion, Death Threats, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Fire, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Foreshadowing, Forest Sex, Friends to Lovers, Gallows Humor, Geralt and Jaskier are good to each other just can't communicate and have some issues, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Ghouls, Give them time :P, Happy Ending, Harm to Animals, Horror, Hugs, Humor, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Manipulation, Metafiction, Mutual Pining, Nature, Original Character(s), Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Protectiveness, Psychological Drama, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Social Commentary, Swearing, Symbolism, Teasing, Tension, The Witcher Lore, Threats of Violence, True Love, Voyeurism, War, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), Wordcount: 30.000-50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaire_Seton/pseuds/Blaire_Seton
Summary: In a world where everything seems to pressure them to have sex… Geralt and Jaskier are courageously resisting. Although, in Jaskier’s case it’s more about simply losing hope.Our story begins where the show stopped because such an intense set up needs a pay off before 2021.Set in locations with names that never appear in neither the books nor the show but sound like lazy modifications of the ones that do… the drama unfolds.Surrounded by war, existential doubt, boundless human cruelty, bloodthirsty monsters, and villains who have a suspicious interest in their personal lives, with every event serving solely to motivate interpersonal communication… they struggle to make sense of the growing closeness between them.As Nilfgaard slowly floods the Continent with the blood of the innocent, and structured lives of people who cultivate the land unfold into chaos…As the growing collective dread begins to appear as an inevitable consequence of fundamental flaws in human nature which can lead only to slow deterioration and painful social decline…Only one question comes to mind…Will they or won’t they?They definitely will.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier for All Seasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866904
Comments: 224
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing he heard was silence. There was not a single bird call, no beating wings taking flight, no animals rushing through the grass below his feet. Like in a moment before the storm, the leaves rustling above his head moved with the last gust of wind, then stopped, motionless.

Geralt looked up and saw a flock of crows on the branches above him, sitting perfectly still as if they were stuffed and mounted.

He moved his weight from one foot to the other, looked around, and filled his lungs with humid air. It smelled of rain, of moss, of decaying pine tree trunks. But the final note was something else. The sickly-sweet odour was faint at first, but it grew stronger by the minute.

The light was scant. It was near dusk, and the rain was coming. Perhaps that was why it took him so long to notice an old grave, so overgrown with ivy and sunk so deep into the ground it was barely visible, just a slight bump in the grass.

That was when he realised where he was. He travelled too deep into the forest.

He swore under his breath, fully focused now, tense like a prowling animal.

The locals shuddered as they described the rising corpses, a gruesome consequence of the war, creeping up in numbers, arriving like a premonition of the horrors to come. They were talking in hushed voices, full of worry as if they expected the dead to listen. Then they would mention the ghouls, hungry and howling, the sound of their claws tearing up flesh would send shivers up their spines. 

Normally, Geralt wouldn't be impressed. But something was different this time. It was a borderline imperceptible lick of fear, his hands turning cold, a peculiar, unpleasant warmth building in his chest.

He shivered.

Standing as still as the world around him, he thought about all the times he faced death before. It was nothing new. Of course, it wasn’t. And yet it felt new somehow. Staying alive had somehow gained urgency for him in the recent months and he shook his head with disdain as he realised the likely reason. He wouldn’t believe it possible if the change didn’t feel so obvious and vivid in the moment. 

Expecting the worst, he was surprised to see a lone figure emerging from amongst the trees. It was shaky, moved slowly, and dragged a broken leg behind.

It was a man, thin, young when he died. His head was drenched in dry blood, strands of brown hair stuck together with black scabs, crumbling. ‘Is there anybody here?’ the dead body asked, looking around, disoriented. He spotted Geralt and approached him slowly, his broken lips forming a misshapen smile.

There was something familiar about him. The similarities made Geralt feel sick to his stomach. At the same time, the stories he heard were slowly aligning with what he saw. ‘Is your name Vladimir?’ Geralt was surprised by how normal this felt, simply asking. 

‘Yes.’ He lit up and his ribs moved faster underneath the torn clothes, flashes of white in the dark. ‘You know me?’

‘I’ve heard of you,’ Geralt responded while slowly moving away, maintaining a distance between them, and raising his sword a little, ready to strike if needed.

Vladimir’s eyesight was weak. All he could see was a man disappearing into the darkness. ‘Please, don’t leave.’ His voice was breaking as if he was in pain. ‘I’ve been wandering through these woods for so long. I walked… and walked. I’m so far from home.’ He moved a little closer and it took all of Geralt’s determination to stay still. ‘Nobody wants to talk to me here. And my family… They didn’t come looking for me, can you believe?’

‘I don’t think anyone survived.’

The man’s head was hanging low for a moment. His pupils looked like deep dark holes, eyes faded, the colour, whatever it originally was, turned hazy white-blue. ‘None of them came,’ he repeated with clear disappointment, his voice cracking and breathy. ‘Do you know why everybody looks so scared?’ 

‘Do you remember what happened?’

‘My son, a brave little man. He fought so hard...’ Vladimir moved his hand in the air as if he was ruffling an invisible child’s hair. ‘I haven’t seen him for so long. He must have grown by now.’

Vladimir’s sense of time must have been distorted, unsurprisingly so. It couldn’t have been long since he was killed. Some of the skin on his face still looked fresh, one of his arms was relatively intact.

‘You shouldn’t look for your son,’ Geralt stated, moving back a little again, just about ready to strike.

‘Why not?’

Geralt didn’t respond.

‘Why not?’ Vladimir gasped for air as he asked and hesitated for a moment. ‘There’s this place where I stay,’ he shuddered as he spoke up again. ‘So cold. So damp. It always rains here.’ He looked up at Geralt again. ‘Aren’t you cold?’

‘It is cold.’

‘They tried to burn it when I was away once. Why would anybody do that?’

‘They-’ Geralt started but Vladimir didn’t let him finish.

‘There was this boy, so much like my son. He was playing near here. I was _so_ happy to see him. I grabbed his hand. And he started screaming so…’ He seemed out of breath for a second. ‘He screamed so...’ He struggled to punch out the last word. ‘… _loudly_.’ He was increasingly upset, moving unsteadily, yet standing in place. ‘I told him I would never hurt him.’

‘Vladimir…’

‘Why does nobody believe me? Is it so hard to listen?’ 

‘You’re killing their sons. That’s why they want to burn you.’

‘I’ve never killed anyone.’ Vladimir seemed nearly amused by the suggestion. Tight, dry skin around his mouth stretched into a painful smile. ‘How could I?’ His question seemed genuine. ‘That’s quite a hurtful thing to say. Very hurtful.’ He stopped for a second as if trying to remember something. ‘Everybody is so cruel, so full of distrust.’ Vladimir’s voice was angry and sad. ‘I’ve seen them. They arrived with no mercy. They didn’t care when I begged.’

He shook his head. A piece of his skin was hanging down, barely attached to his neck. It was rubbing against the dried blood on his shirt as he moved.

‘They were everywhere. They would consume people like a fire. I could see them raging though the night. Unstoppable.’ Vladimir shuddered at the memory. ‘Murdering everyone as if it was just something they do, nothing more.’ He looked around in a haze. ‘Would you kill a man… _like that_?’

He looked straight into Geralt’s eyes, strangely lucid all of a sudden.

***

Vladimir’s last scream echoed in Geralt’s head for days like a dark refrain.

As if to spite him, the weather turned and the cold rain gave way to unbearable heat which lasted for weeks.

Geralt passed Vladimir’s village, the burned shells of houses, the fields sprinkled with little hills, gradually growing bigger as the days passed. The locals clearly gave up on grief, sentiment and detail, and just dug mass graves to save themselves from the smell of decomposing corpses.

They failed. Only made worse by the persistent sunshine, the thick, sweet stench lingered in the suffocating, hot air.

Roach was clearly unsettled. Geralt kept stopping to offer her water, sometimes refusing himself a drink, tired and uncomfortable. There were bodies scattered along the river bank, and floating with the current, attached to broken branches like some misshapen rotting fruit. Clean water sources were scarce. 

Although he should have looked for more work, he just travelled from one town to another, seemingly purposeless, listening and observing, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Somebody who didn’t know any better could have thought he was looking for someone, with the search becoming more urgent each day. However, when staying at the inns he would just drink and people watch, have casual conversations, ask innocuous questions, never directly inquire about anyone. Then he would move on to another place in haste, ignoring the wall of heat hitting his face as he walked out the door.

Somebody who knew him well would most likely say he seemed increasingly uneasy, each place he visited a worrying disappointment, the coin running dangerously short. To others, he just looked like a gloomy witcher sitting around with nothing to do.

His luck changed the moment he arrived in Uvada. 

***

The barmaid at the Friendly Deer was unusually inquisitive and chatty. The place wasn’t too busy. Geralt imagined she must have been bored. Or at least he was hoping that was it. ‘Welcome,’ she exclaimed gladly, eyes slightly surprised. ‘A beer?’

Geralt sat down drinking, tired, hoping she would leave him alone but she circled around him, desperate to initiate a conversation. He kept looking away, staring at the many deer heads mounted on the walls. The irony of it, considering the name of the establishment, must have been lost on the owners.

It was an old place, a bit run down. He could hear the floor creak as she walked back and forth, never leaving his field of vision.

Finally, noting his lack of interest, she just sat at the other side of his table, not asking for permission. ‘I’m sorry _,_ ’ she started, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But this is an odd coincidence.’

‘Is it?’ Geralt didn’t sound convinced.

‘We don’t really see witchers here… often.’ Geralt waited for her to elaborate, clearly growing impatient. ‘Can I _just_ ask…’

He nodded, resigned.

‘Do golden dragons actually exist?’

‘Yes, they do,’ Geralt responded sharply, feeling a sudden pang of hope.

‘And is it true that they can change into a human form?’

‘Yes.’ Geralt nodded, looking strangely relieved.

‘That _can’t_ be!’ She was clearly shocked by the idea. ‘See, just yesterday we had a bard here. He was signing about this witcher he used to travel with. I don’t remember the name… He’s _obsessed_ with that bloody creature.’ She winced, worried she might have offended him enough to kill the conversation, a flash of genuine fear in her eyes.

But he was calmly drinking his beer, seemingly indifferent, just a hint of a self-satisfied look she didn’t understand.

 _‘_ And you know what?’ she started again. ‘I think he’s making it _all_ up. Well, maybe not the part about the dragon. But the rest?’ She shook her head with disapproval. ‘I did ask. He _swears_ it’s all true. But, you know. I’m sure _you_ would be able to tell. You would probably find this more entertaining than most. Not that it wasn’t. I quite enjoyed it. It cheered everybody up, that’s for sure.’

‘Why do you think he’s making it up?’

‘I honestly don’t mean to insult you. I mean… I’ve never met a witcher before. Annika, my friend… She did once… Here, in _our_ tavern.’ She emphasised it as if it was a matter of pride. ‘But people say, and she confirmed it, witchers are not the most sociable creatures. And, you know, emotions are not something you exceed at.’

She glanced at him, nervously, and hesitated before continuing.

‘And, you know, ehm, you _can_ be patient but it’s the kind of patience one might need to wait at some cold corner of a depressing swamp for a ghoul to emerge.’ She noticed Geralt was getting slightly annoyed. ‘And Jaskier… the bard, I mean. _Well_ , he’s all smiles and charm, don’t get me wrong. But he fills every space so tightly, there’s no air to breathe.’

Geralt failed to suppress a smile but she didn’t notice, and prattled on.

‘And at first he’s all over you but then…’ She stopped herself, feeling like she went too far. ‘Well, you know, ehm… he loses interest easily.’ Her cheeks flushed a little.

Geralt looked up with interest.

‘I think it’s pretty crazy to imagine,’ she continued, trying to distract him from what she said before. ‘I mean, a bard, and a _fussy_ one at that, traveling with a witcher? I told him it’s _ridiculous_. Sounds like the beginning of a joke.’ She laughed nervously. ‘A witcher and a bard confront a blood-sucking demon… and what happens next?’ She pretended to wonder. ‘I guess the bard dies.’

‘No,’ Geralt shook his head. ‘The witcher dies trying to save the bard. And it’s no joke to either of them.’

‘That’s funny,’ she said, sounding more puzzled than amused. ‘That’s more or less what he said, too.’

‘Hm.’ Geralt smiled to himself and put some coins in front of her. ‘One more. And can you tell me where he went from here?’

***

The inn she directed him to, the Stag Head, was in a picturesque spot on a hill at the edge of the forest. Although the sun was lower now, and the light was slowly taking on orange hues, the heat was not giving way. The main door was open to let the air circulate. It was definitely not effective but meant that Geralt could hear what was going on inside from a fair distance.

As he approached the building, he began to hear the familiar sound of Jaskier’s voice. He stopped for a moment and just listened. The place seemed oddly tranquil. Not a single person standing outside, no sounds of conversations, just the lute. Somebody must have watered the grass at the front as the green looked vivid, the air felt slightly humid, and there was a fresh, earthy smell hanging around as if it had rained.

He couldn’t distinguish the words but kept listening attentively as he gave Roach a pat before walking in. Even without hearing the lyrics, he knew what the song was about. And he couldn’t help but notice Jaskier sounded slightly sadder than the last time he heard him sing.

Looking intimidating on the best of days, Geralt turned heads. The crowd opened and let him through. Some recognized him, others just didn’t fancy the idea of standing in his way. As he walked forwards, Jaskier’s voice grew in volume. He hit a higher note just as the last few people moved away.

The moment he saw Geralt, he stopped mid word. A series of emotions ran across his face at a frantic pace. Surprise at first, then a moment of suspicion as if he was asking himself if he was, in fact, just imagining it. Then there was a short burst of happiness quickly transforming into confusion mixed with a bit of sadness. He finally settled on a light, bittersweet smile. 

Geralt did not appreciate, what felt like, half of the population of the town witnessing the moment. But Jaskier didn’t mind. He gracefully shook off the initial shock and smiled with confidence that would convince any uninformed witness he was prepared for this all along. ‘This is a special song,’ he started, abandoning the previous one with no regrets, ‘dedicated to the witchers in the audience.’

He had their attention again, although a few eyes remained set on Geralt who looked increasingly unimpressed.

‘I wrote it after a very emotional experience so… _ehm_ … excuse the messiness.’ Jaskier cleared his throat and started to sing again.

Oh, who is that…  
 _Such_ strong arms but a _very_ cold heart  
To him… It’s just a laugh…  
To slash _a harpy_ in half  
But mention your _feelings_  
And he’d rather take _beatings_  
Than admit… _that he cares_

The crowd noted the clear shift in tone from the previous song. There were a few laughs and some murmurs.

He prefers cruel beasts’ _claws_  
To a _lovely_ , charismatic friend  
Who tried to break down _his walls_  
And although he fought _so_ hard  
He was but a humble bard  
And no matter what he tried  
They _couldn’t_ travel _far_

Oh, who is that…  
The most _glorious_ bottom but…

Geralt walked towards him and motioned him to stop. ‘Thank you, Jaskier. I think I’ve heard enough. _Word_?’

Jaskier looked around apologetically. ‘I will be back soon,’ he assured his audience.

A bunch of women at the front clapped loudly. A young redhead amongst them stared at him with admiration, and waved.

He waved back, bowed a few times, and followed Geralt out of the inn.

‘Geralt, _wait._ What’s the hurry?’ He managed to catch up with him. ‘Just… stay here. It’s a nice place. Although, what’s with this widespread obsession with deer, do you know?’ He didn’t really expect a response. ‘The only other semi-viable inn around here is _tiny bit_ unsettling, to be honest. A bit of a creepy feel to it. I didn’t enjoy it at all.’

‘I gathered as much.’ Geralt said more to himself than to Jaskier, still walking.

‘Fuck… Where are you going? _Stop_.’ He persisted, to no effect. ‘You didn’t even wait for the final part of the song. It exalts the _many_ rewards that come to those who overcome their weaknesses and face their feelings.’

‘I think I can guess the ending.’

‘Oh, _can you_?’ Jaskier was oddly excited about that.

‘Did you actually write this song expecting me to walk in like this one day?’

‘No, I wrote it because you broke my heart. I wasn’t _really_ planning to perform it.’

‘Did you just make it up on the spot?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hm.’

‘Was that _a compliment_?’ He waited but Geralt ignored him. ‘I think it was _._ ’ Jaskier sounded quite amazed.

They walked further away. Geralt was clearly uncomfortable in the heat despite the sunshine finally losing its strength. The sun was almost ready to set.

‘What the fuck is wrong with this weather?’ He wiped the sweat off the back of his neck and stretched, frustrated. ‘ _E_ _ven_ at this time of the fucking day.’

‘It is getting cooler now,’ Jaskier stated, reassuringly. ‘It’s been so lovely for the last three weeks or so.’

‘That’s what I mean.’

‘What’s _wrong_ with lovely?’ Geralt’s objection to the word seemed to offend him slightly. He just stood there in a heavily stripped down version of the outfit he normally performed in, hands on his hips, looking perfectly comfortable in the warmth. 

‘I don’t know if you noticed…’ Geralt was already getting annoyed. ‘But we’re in the midst of _a war_.’ Jaskier didn’t seem to see the connection. ‘Heat means…’ He stopped himself for a second, and just stared at Jaskier blankly. ‘It means… dry trees, dry grass. Dry means fires spread like a disease.’

‘Did you come here _for me_?’ Jaskier was not concerned with wars or fires at the moment.

‘I think this area will be under attack soon.’

‘This _doesn’t_ _really_ answer my question.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Jaskier. You’re trying to make this into something it’s not.’ Geralt looked away, shaking his head.

‘You really are a bit embarrassed about this, aren’t you?’ Jaskier smiled, just observing Geralt closely for a moment, his mood shifting again. ‘Then… you _did_ come here for me!’ He lit up, overjoyed. ‘Of course, you did. Why wouldn’t you?’

‘There are _many_ reasons I wouldn’t.’

Geralt welcomed the sun finally disappearing behind the trees with relief. It was a beautiful sunset, if he bothered to look, with the colours of the sky shifting into a mix of dark blue and vivid pink. Jaskier was not interested either. His whole attention was on Geralt.

‘There must be _some_ reason you came back. Think of that reason and _tell me_.’

‘I was around.’

‘You are,’ Jaskier hesitated for a second, ‘ _n_ _ot_ doing a great job so far.’

‘I don’t want you to die.’

‘Alright, that’s… _better_ , I think.’

Geralt grunted and rolled his eyes. He started slowly walking away.

‘No, no, no, don’t give up.’ Jaskier followed him quickly. ‘We can work this out.’

‘Could we _just_ leave tomorrow?’

Jaskier froze in place, surprised. ‘ _Yes_ … Yes, of course we can.’ He sounded both shocked and moved.

‘We can?’ Geralt’s voice turned softer, and the question seemed genuine.

‘Yes, sure.’

‘ _Good_ , then we will.’ Geralt was trying to hide his relief but it was obvious to Jaskier.

‘ _So_ …’ Jaskier started, repressing a smile. ‘You’re no longer worried I will get in the way and cause trouble?’

‘You will. But that’s…’ He finally decided on ‘fine’, although nothing in his voice suggested it was.

‘And you don’t think I’m too easily scared to cope with your dangerous, witchery way of life?’

‘No, you are quite brave in your own cowardly way.’

Jaskier found that a bit funny. ‘Oh, Geralt,’ he sighed dramatically. ‘You really do give the _loveliest_ compliments.’

‘ _Jaskier_ … honestly… The number of times I wished I could strangle you.’

‘Ooohhh, do I get on your nerves?’ Jaskier sneered with feigned compassion. He approached Geralt with the theatrically exaggerated pride of a man who is willing to face death with dignity. Then he grabbed Geralt’s hand and wrapped it around his neck. He waited. ‘You have to squeeze for it to work, you know?’ he added, feeling helpful.

Geralt unwittingly realised that Jaskier’s pulse was unusually fast. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He took his hand away.

‘There is a limit to how much rejection one man can take.’ Jaskier looked genuinely sad, pouting slightly, and Geralt just shook his head in resignation.

‘Come on…’ Jaskier was not losing any of his growing enthusiasm. ‘Say something _nice_ about me.’

‘You are…’ Geralt took a deep breath, ‘exhausting.’

‘Alright, yes, good,’ he nodded approvingly, ‘although _not_ what I was hoping for.’

‘ _This_ , whatever it is you’re doing… is too intense for me.’

‘Fine, I suppose that’s fine. I’ll repress all I can if that makes you happy.’

‘Would you?’

‘If that’s what it takes.’

‘I _would_ appreciate that.’

‘You’re _very_ welcome Geralt. I’ll suffer in silence from now on, miserable, alone, knowing my genuine self was completely rejected by my best friend, the man whose bravery I admire, and _the only_ true inspiration for my art…’

‘Right. I thought so.’

‘I’m just showing you how compliments _actually_ work.’

‘We’re traveling as far away from here as possible tomorrow.’ He looked back at Jaskier who looked suspiciously hopeful. ‘ _Not_ to the coast.’

‘Of course not,’ Jaskier nodded happily. ‘Where to, then?’

‘Wherever is safe… _safer._ ’

Geralt looked at the darkness settling around them and felt a cool gust of wind on his face. ‘Fuck, finally.’ He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. ‘It’s _finally_ easier to breathe.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Jaskier, Geralt has a vivid dream which quickly turns into a nightmare.
> 
> The danger he wanted to protect them from arrives earlier than expected, and they are forced to flee with the fire raging around them.

In his dream Geralt was walking through a forest. The wind was moving lazily through the branches. The rustling of the leaves was soothing, the air humid and fresh. It was a beautiful day in early spring, one of those that feel neither too hot nor too cold. The sun was gentle on his face. It must have been close to noon as there were no shadows but for the fluid shape of leaves dancing on the ground. As he looked around, he noticed daffodils growing along a river bank, a sea of yellow, water murmuring in the background, calm and clear.

He saw a figure ahead of him. It was a woman clothed in many layers of a semi-transparent fabric, a veil on her head, each part of her body covered, yet clearly visible. As he approached her, he saw that her face was turning into a blur. Her features were shifting fluently, never settling. She smiled at him, a hundred different lips smiling at once.

‘I have something for you.’ Her voice was harsh and soft, young and old at the same time. She held out her hand. He leaned forwards and saw she was holding a little, wooden sculpture of a deer. ‘I had to wait until the world ends to find it,’ she said, handing it to him.

Geralt took it from her, surprised by the warm feeling suddenly overpowering him as he held on to it. ‘I thought I lost it,’ he said, confused. He knew he’s never seen it before but the relief after getting it back was stronger than any sense of newness or unfamiliarity. 

‘Lost it?’ She seemed surprised. ‘No, you threw it away.’

‘No, I didn’t. I would _never_.’ He was weirdly offended but his denial didn’t sound convincing even to himself.

The emotions floating though her face seemed unclear, impossible to read.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to the sculpture. The level of detail seemed impossible. It was as if somebody managed to carve each, tiny hair on the animal out of the soft wood. Its eyes had an odd, lively shine. It was hauntingly beautiful.

Suddenly he noticed a glimmer of light in its coat. The light spread fast. It was burning. The fire engulfed it quickly. The figure was turning into dust but the shape remained, glowing, and Geralt kept it in his hand, feeling no pain or heat. 

‘Why would I?’ He asked her. ‘It’s not human. It’s not real. It’s not even…’

She didn’t let him finish. She laughed as if what he said was funny, but he found that unsettling, a shiver running down his spine. ‘Of course, it is. It’s all of these things, Geralt.’

The way she said his name sounded oddly familiar. As she said it, his hand suddenly felt severely burned and he dropped the ash to the ground, trying to shake it off. He couldn’t. It turned flexible and sticky, and he couldn’t wipe it away. No matter how hard he was fighting to remove it, the pain just kept getting worse, some grains of wood still glimmering and hot.

He looked up at her but she wasn’t there.

Instead, there was a real deer looking back at him from a distance, walking lightly. It was young and healthy, its coat shiny and handsome, sprinkled with golden blots of sunshine. It seemed curious about Geralt, and approached him slowly with growing interest until it stepped on a trunk of an old tree and one of its hooves fell in.

It stopped, tried to move forward again but couldn’t.

Geralt moved closer, steady and slow, doing his best not to scare it.

But as he walked, the animal started to panic, dragging the trapped leg and hurting it more.

‘Calm down, calm down,’ he spoke softly, moving even slower now. 

The deer listened, its ears twitched, the head tilted slightly.

‘Everything will be fine,’ he said reassuringly, getting quite close now.

The animal was strangely endearing. Something about its movements was mesmerizing. Something familiar about it. Something that made a feeling of warmth spread in his stomach, a strong attachment that seemed somehow displaced. ‘Roach?’ He asked as if to explain the sudden surge of emotions. No, it was stupid. It made no sense.

He gently patted the deer’s soft muzzle, surprised it would let him. His hand moved up to its head, and the animal closed its eyes, comforted, no longer struggling. Geralt also felt calmer, the unsettling feeling going away. He smiled, a peculiar happiness filled his lungs. It was gentle at first, but then started building up and up until it turned into a weird euphoria. A part of him turned sorrowful as he realised that he hasn’t felt this way in a long time, a racing heart, the sudden rush of blood, a curious kind of joy.

His thoughts were cut short with a sound of a crying animal. There was blood on the deer wherever he touched it as if his fingers were razor sharp. A sudden pang of regret and shame hit him hard, starting slow then quickly turning overwhelming. He moved away but it was too late. There were cracks appearing on the deer’s skin as if it was made of glass, breaking. A sound of a hundred mirrors hitting the ground filled his ears, deafening and surprising. The deer shattered into small pieces and Geralt closed his eyes trying to block out the image.

When he opened his eyes again there was Jaskier standing right in front of him. ‘What’s wrong, Geralt?’ he asked, looking concerned. ‘Talk to me.’

It seemed so sudden and out of context, all he could feel was a surge of rage. ‘ _You_ _are_ what’s wrong,’ he said sharply. ‘You are _the only_ thing that’s wrong with me.’

‘What’s wrong, Geralt?’ he repeated exactly the same as before. ‘Talk to me.’

‘Can you hear me at all?’ Geralt asked, feeling like Jaskier didn’t really see him. His eyes were distant, seemingly looking towards him but slightly off to the side, creating an uncanny feeling of disconnection. ‘ _Jaskier?_ ’

‘What’s wrong, Geralt?’ he started again.

‘Just stop, _stop that_.’

‘Talk to me.’

‘What the fuck do you think I’m doing?’

Geralt tried to push Jaskier. He was looking for a response, any response. Jaskier’s shoulder felt real as he grabbed it. Every part of him seemed physically present and yet he just kept repeating himself, unchanged like some bizarre vision.

The push did nothing. He was immovable. Geralt pushed harder and harder, in vain. Jaskier just stood there the same as before.

‘I’m trying here,’ Geralt said angrily, feeling increasingly lost. ‘I _really_ am.’

‘What’s wrong, Geralt?’

‘No… For fuck’s sake…’

‘Talk to me.’

Geralt’s helplessness was turning into anger, sharp and intense yet remote, as if it belonged to somebody else. He was swiftly losing control over his steadily growing fury, the feeling washing over him with unprecedented force. Without thinking, he grabbed a short knife he kept in his belt and stabbed Jaskier in the stomach.

‘What’s wrong, Geralt?’ Jaskier asked the exact same way as before, his face unchanged.

Geralt’s fingers dug deep into Jaskier’s shoulder as he tried to push him forwards to drive the knife deeper but couldn’t. He grasped his hair, wrapped his hand around his neck, pulling and dragging to no effect. Finally, he just pushed the knife as deep as he could, and yanked it out. Nothing. There was no blood. Jaskier stood there, still unmoved.

Geralt stabbed him again, dragging the blade up as if he was trying to gut him, realising he was holding a hunting knife, the blade arching up. He stopped, pulled the knife out again, and saw clear water seeping out of the wound, crisp and fresh as if it trickled out of a mountain spring. Jaskier’s fancy clothes drenched, the rest unchanged.

‘Why…’ he felt surprised, angry, overwhelmed, and guilty at the same time somehow. ‘ _You can’t even bleed right, can you_?’

To his amazement, Jaskier did move this time. He just stepped ahead and walked straight through him as if he was a ghost.

Geralt turned around and recognised his own back ahead of him, the exact shape of his body, dressed in his clothes, walking away with Jaskier by his side.

Jaskier turned back, his eyes sad. He was clearly hurt. Then the other Geralt turned around too, his face filled with hatred as he stared at his real self with disgust. He took some old cloth out of his bag, tore it into a strip, and tied it around Jaskier’s waist, putting pressure on the wound, careful and considerate despite his harshly confident manner. As soon as it was done, he grabbed Jaskier’s sleeve and pulled him forwards as if trying to get him away from the real Geralt as quickly as possible.

Suddenly Geralt’s arms and legs felt heavy and he couldn’t move. He felt trapped, trying to pull himself ahead but unable to.

As the two figures disappeared behind the trees, he heard a distant sound like hundreds of animals running, twigs breaking, branches pushed away, snapping back.

And then he noticed the smoke, the forest beginning to burn around him.

Still paralyzed, he saw deer running at him in huge numbers. He didn’t feel like himself, as if all his skills and strength left him. He just waited to be crushed by the terrified animals, his fear growing gradually until he started to feel sick.

A strong, impressive stag launched straight at him. As he felt the antlers biting into his flesh, he woke up.

His eyes slowly refocused on the wooden ceiling above his head. He was sweaty and nervous, the sound of hooves hitting the ground still echoing in his head. He waited for it to evaporate along with the uncomfortable feeling of self-disgust, still lingering.

But the sound didn’t stop. It seemed like it was getting closer. Geralt looked out of the window and saw a few herds of deer running ahead, brown coats flashing in between the trees, a sense of panic in the air.

***

He knocked on the door hard, perhaps harder than he should have at this time of night.

He barged into the room and saw Jaskier reluctantly emerging from a deep sleep. The redhead who waved at him after his performance was wrapped around him like a hungry boa constrictor. Her locks were scattered on his face, the ginger strands of hair stood out in stark contrast against his pale skin.

Jaskier lifted himself up, startled. ‘Geralt? What the fuck?’ He blinked a few times, still barely conscious. ‘Were you brought up in a barn by any chance?’

He tried to move her hair away without pulling as she was slowly waking up. She was clearly indifferent to it, much less disturbed by Geralt’s appearance than Jaskier.

‘We need to go.’ Geralt didn’t want to waste any time.

‘Now?’ Jaskier pointed at the window. ‘It’s _dark_ outside.’

Geralt gathered Jaskier’s clothes from the floor and threw them in his face. ‘ _Now_!’

‘What’s wrong? Can’t you just tell me?’

Geralt stopped and looked at him with an odd intensity, slightly shocked, which made the situation seem even more bizarre.

‘Yes, we can have a nice, long chat about it while waiting to be executed by a bunch of Nilfgaardian soldiers,’ he quipped with a bitter smile.

This woke her up. She jumped out of bed, searching for her clothes.

‘I’ll let you two dress.’

Geralt walked out of the room but only gave them a minute before walking back in.

Jaskier was clearly struggling with his clothes, not enjoying the rush, awkwardly pushing his arms into his sleeves, nervously pulling on the silk.

‘ _Shit_ , Jaskier… Don’t pretend you want to do up all the fucking buttons.’ Geralt grabbed one of his sleeves and pulled him forwards. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

‘Geralt, but what about…’

‘…Carina,’ the woman finished the sentence looking mildly annoyed, and increasingly panicked.

‘ _Exactly_.’

‘We can take her with us.’

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she started. ‘It was nice but… I need to find my husband _right now_.’

‘ _Nice_?’ Jaskier was clearly offended and ready to get into a discussion but Geralt was already pulling him towards the door.

‘No time for this. She’ll cope.’

***

As they ran out, it was taking Jaskier some effort to keep up. Geralt was moving fast, visibly unsettled.

He stopped abruptly and was untying Roach with clear impatience. He pulled the reins. She hesitated, already smelling the smoke. Geralt was also catching a whiff of it. His usually slow and controlled movements were losing some of their fluidity.

Jaskier remained oblivious to the smell, oddly quiet, somehow still not entirely awake, observing Geralt’s every move.

It was unsettling.

Geralt looked up, annoyed, and noticed a series of small hickeys appearing on Jaskier’s neck. The new ones stood out against a few older purple dots. He shook his head, resigned, and pulled Roach ahead. ‘Do you have commitment issues?’ he asked, ignoring the situation for a moment. 

Jaskier was thrown off, not expecting the question but then smiled to himself. ‘I thought you were finding me overly committed.’

‘That’s only as far as _I’m_ concerned.’

‘Geralt…’ Jaskier’s eyes grew bigger for a moment. ‘I find that hard to believe but are you insinuating something?’

‘Oh, _fuck_.’

‘What?’

Geralt just pointed up. There was a heavy cloud of smoke slowly moving towards them.

They were still far away from the forest, and the distance was not shrinking fast enough.

‘It’s spreading fast. We need to go in _now_.’

‘You want _me_ to go into a burning forest?’

‘If we’re fast, the fire will cut us off from here. We’ll be safe on the other side.’

‘How fast do we need to be?’

Geralt didn’t respond, just dragged him onward.

‘Shouldn’t we get on the horse?’

‘No. We need Roach in good shape if something goes wrong.’

‘Something _is_ going wrong.’

‘Not yet.’

‘If _you_ say so,’ Jaskier didn’t seem convinced. He was finally feeling the lick of fear Geralt expected from him much earlier. He had to run just to keep up. He could smell the smoke now, the suffocating sharpness in the air. He coughed softly, his mouth running dry.

The wind carried the smoke, but they were still too far away to see the fire. Geralt thought that was promising. The moment he was starting to feel relieved, they heard a loud scream piercing through the air.

‘ _Geralt_ ’, Jaskier whined, looking back.

A bunch of soldiers gathered around the inn. There were flames shooting from the windows and the roof was already starting to ignite. One of them noticed the two figures running towards the forest.

A dark outline of a man on a horse, sharp against the flames, stood motionless, a moment of stillness. But Geralt knew exactly what was coming. The man launched at them, and others followed.

Geralt would have considered confronting them if he was alone. Instead, he got on Roach and helped Jaskier up.

They went ahead as fast as they could but it was too much weight, clearly. Jaskier was holding on to him awkwardly, pulling on Geralt’s belt, losing his balance a bit, slowing them down.

‘Since when are you so shy about it?’ Geralt asked, a bit of anger in his voice, mind focused on keeping them balanced.

Jaskier listened and held on more firmly but there was no significant improvement.

Riding together was a short term strategy, and not a good one. Despite this, the wall of trees ahead of them was finally getting closer. The sound of the hooves hitting the ground was calming to Geralt. They could disappear into one of the paths, find a detour, lose the soldiers before they could get too close. 

Suddenly he heard the sound of an arrow cutting through the air, and managed to push Roach slightly off the track just in time. Jaskier heard it too, although with a significant delay. Geralt knew because he could feel his hands squeezing him harder as if that could keep them safe somehow.

The path was broad and straight, not helpful at all. Going ahead, they were the perfect shooting targets.

‘How many?’ Geralt asked. ‘Did you count?’

‘I don’t know. A lot. _Too many_.’

Geralt reluctantly admitted to himself that this estimate was, in fact, good enough. He looked back anyway, barely managing to hold his balance as he pushed Jaskier to the side.

It was all a matter of luck now. And he hated when anything was down to luck.

The moment they reached the forest, as triumphant as it was supposed to be, felt hollow. They were far from safe. The trees around them were turning into a blur, and there was a change in the air. Geralt could already hear a quiet crackle coming from afar. They arrived too late. The leaves were moving with the wind, twigs breaking.

And then they saw it, the flames spreading through the dry branches at the edge of the forest. They consumed the tree trunks bite by bite. The thin trails of sneaky orange blaze moved slowly at first, just to erupt into a sudden, glowing ball of fire as they engulfed the thirsty, sun drenched leaves in seconds.

Roach was getting uneasy, ready to rebel at any moment.

It was already getting hard to breathe and the wind stopped suddenly. It gave way to growing, panic-inducing heat. The flames made the forest bright as day, shadows dancing around them, sparks falling like red hot snow.

Just in time, Geralt noticed a smaller path breaking away to the side. The only one there, an obvious choice, offering no protection against their pursuers. He decided to go ahead regardless. It was unlikely, or so he hoped, that the soldiers were mad enough to follow them as far.

His thoughts and calculations finally added up to something. He knew what to do. ‘Jaskier, I’m going to stop in a moment.’

‘Why on earth would you _do that_?’

‘We’re too slow. We’ll both die if we keep going.’ As he said it, a heavy, burning branch collapsed behind them with a loud creak. He felt Jaskier jump up behind him, then move uneasily, panic slowly settling in. ‘I have a plan,’ he reassured him.

Geralt was angry with himself for being overly direct at first, just beginning to realise that convincing Jaskier to do what he asks might prove to be dangerously difficult.

‘What do you want to do?’ Jaskier asked, coughing lightly.

‘You need to go by yourself.’

‘What?’

‘You’re light. You can go fast.’

‘No, you _can’t_ leave me. You just came back.’

‘ _Really?_ ’ Geralt’s worse predictions were already coming true and he had no patience for it. ‘Trust you to make this personal.’

‘I’m not leaving you behind.’ Jaskier sounded convinced, his voice barely audible with the noise growing louder around them. ‘ _I’m not_ …’ he gasped, and tried to raise his voice but struggled to breathe in.

Everything felt unreal. The sounds were reaching Jaskier with a delay. The trees around them were turning into ash at a pace he’d never believe possible. The sight was beautiful and terrifying all at once. He kept choking on the hot air, the smoke thickening around them.

Geralt was right. Of course, he was. 

‘Jaskier? Focus, please. I’ll stop and get down. You need to go ahead.’

No response. He knew what he had to say. ‘I’ll be fine. Jaskier? You go to the closest inn…’ He was trying to remember the name but he couldn’t. He struggled to focus on that knowing they were running out of time. ‘The closest one. I’ll catch up. I’ll ask for you.’

He stopped abruptly, pushed Jaskier’s hands away with ease, his feet hit the ground before he managed to react.

Jaskier was just about to say something but Geralt slapped Roach, not something either her or Jaskier expected, and she galloped ahead at full speed.

They left him behind, the layers and layers of shimmering air separating them as Geralt melted into the heat haze, losing shape, growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared as Roach cut a corner.

It happened so quickly, Jaskier was barely able to process it. The images of the landscape were changing around him, appearing as disconnected still pictures which lingered in his eyes as he was riding ahead. Everything he saw, felt and thought somehow lost continuity.

Suddenly, he felt the air growing fresher, and saw the light shifting. The warm glow of fire was giving way to the cold, white glare of the rising sun.

Roach slowed down a bit, running up a hill, a narrow, winding path climbing in between moss-covered rocks.

As they reached the peak, Jaskier looked at the landscape ahead. The stretch of trees where he saw Geralt last turned into nothing but a mixture of smoke and heat. All he could see was a barren, black strap of ash and dust cutting through the green, then a desolate sea of burning orange.

As he looked, his feelings were coming back to him one by one. There was the tiredness from broken sleep, the muscle he pulled when climbing up the saddle, the aches and pains of the physical effort it took him to get this far, a mild headache reminding him of the few too many drinks he had last night, the rushing tides of nausea, the burning in his stomach…

And worst of all, a piercing pain in his chest, a shallow emptiness and a vague, creeping fear which he refused to give a name to. He was worried that even thinking it might somehow increase the likelihood…

So he didn’t. He rode on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier arrives at the inn and waits for Geralt to come back after their separation in the burning forest. Emotions quietly stew. 
> 
> Geralt knows how to survive the most dangerous situations but does he know how to deal with a friend who worries about him? 
> 
> Ehm... No.

It was just a few hours before midday that he arrived at the ‘closest’ inn. He paid for two rooms, dropping the coin at the table with desperate determination, almost as if he was trying to prove a point.

The barmaid seemed interested, and eager to make that obvious. Or perhaps she was just worried because he had some ash smeared on his face, an odd shine in his eyes. She could probably smell the smoke, still trapped in his hair, even at a distance. She seemed to recognise his name. Her face lit up the moment she heard it. But he barely noticed that. He even failed to realise she was offended by how distracted and unresponsive he was. He didn’t want her help or attention. She walked away disappointed, nervously pulling on a strand of her hair. He was famous, that much was certain, but for what exactly, she wasn’t sure.

He probably should have been hungry by now but wasn’t. He also hadn't had a single drop of water since last night. None of that crossed his mind. It was only once the dryness at the back of his throat became unbearable that he remembered.

She brought over a full cup and sat it on the table. He looked at the drops of water trickling down, and then at her. She was avoiding his eyes.

For a while, he sat outside, sipping on water and looking at people arriving from all directions. He didn’t really know which roads from Uvada were still passable, didn’t care who sat next to him, or listened to what they said. His eyes were just passively following the colourful stream of people passing him by.

A part of him was afraid of what he could make himself believe. The circumstances could easily transform his vivid imagination from a blessing to a curse. But for hours, his mind was completely empty. It was an indifferent, closed-off space, flames still raging within. That was good, or so he believed, because it kept him numb, and calm, seemingly rational about this insane situation. His thoughts were like a dull, continuous hum at the back of his mind, easy to ignore, nothing more than irrelevant, background noise.

Finally, yearning for peace and quiet, not an instinct he would normally understand, he went up to his room. He changed his clothes. The fabric reeked of sweat and smoke. He couldn’t shake off the smell even with the fresh garments on. It was everywhere, and it was harsh and suffocating. Even his skin seemed doused in it, and his hair felt dry and brittle. 

As he sat down on the bed, and tiredness suddenly hit him, something in his mind shifted. Imperceptible at first, but then more vivid with every minute, all thoughts and ideas rushing back at once.

From then on, everything was worse.

At first, however, his task was easy. He simply focused on the _obvious_ fact that it would take Geralt many hours to catch up on foot. For a very long time him not being there was perfectly justified. Jaskier was comfortable with that. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to think about. Not a thing to focus on or consider.

However, that certainty was bound to melt away with time.

The tavern was getting busy and when he asked the barmaid if she could let him know when somebody arrived and mentioned his name, she refused. ‘I’m sorry…’ she said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘Just come by and ask.’

So he did.

That was fine. From that point on, every time he went downstairs Geralt could be waiting. What a relief that would be. Not that he was so terribly worried. Geralt knew his way out of trouble so Jaskier felt optimistic every time he went. And he kept going.

And he went again and again. And again.

Until anticipation turned into dread.

It was a thin line. Once he crossed it, he could not go back.

***

A few hours before the sunset, they started having conversations.

‘Get on,’ imaginary Geralt was motioning towards Roach, the fire raging around them.

Jaskier made many attempts to come up with the ‘right’ response but to no avail. It all felt awkward and unnatural.

‘Geralt, just leave me behind,’ he finally said, sounding impatient and discouraged. ‘In the end… what difference would that make? A few less songs? You save people’s lives for fuck’s sake.’

‘Yes, like yours, _right now_.’

No, that didn’t quite sound like Geralt. He would just keep insisting.

‘Don’t be stupid, Jaskier. Just get on.’ Some familiar anger in his voice. Better.

‘How long can I possibly live?’ Jaskier whined on. ‘I mean… even if you do this? I have a _really_ short lifespan… and you only seem to care about me when I’m about to die. Makes one develop bad habits.’ He laughed nervously. It was meant to be a joke but ended up sounding bitter.

No, that was bad. So fucking needy. Maybe it would have worked if he was teasing him on some calm day when they were just walking, not actually worried about anything.

In the end, it didn’t matter what he said. Geralt was relentless. There was no way to get him out of the burning forest. Every scenario ended the same. Geralt would never, under no circumstances, leave Jaskier behind. He would never risk both of their lives either. He’s neither stupid _nor sentimental_. The moment was like a narrow corridor and Jaskier was bumping against the walls. No way to go but forward.

‘This is stupid,’ imaginary Geralt was beginning to break the fourth wall. ‘You would never choose to die like this.’

Jaskier was standing in front of him, feeling increasingly frustrated. ‘Easy for you to say…’ One of the burning branches fell on the path behind them. ‘You face death for a living!’

Oh, that was a good line, actually. Jaskier stopped to write it down. Geralt was _not dead_ , of course not. And this is good material for a future song. ‘The Witcher faces death for a living.’ Or maybe… ‘ _Your_ Witcher faces death for a living?’

‘Just get on the horse and leave me the fuck alone!' Imaginary Geralt was getting angry but to no avail. Jaskier was not going anywhere. ‘ _Damn it_ , Jaskier!’ Almost imperceptibly, the imaginary scenario transitioned into a memory. ‘If life could give me one blessing…’ he started, and Jaskier’s blood instantly ran cold.

But Geralt didn’t finish. His voice turned into a terrifying, wheezing, wet cough as an arrow hit his neck from behind. He stayed on his feet, his legs gradually giving way, face contorted with pain. Jaskier was stunned, looking straight into Geralt’s eyes as the man behind them was fading. He took a few steps towards him, wanting but unable to help.

Geralt coughed one last time, blood hitting Jaskier’s face. Jaskier wiped his cheek with a shaky hand. It was wet. Wet with his actual tears, not Geralt’s imaginary blood.

He was just sitting on a bed in an impersonal, quiet room, in a tavern, his chest feeling heavy and breathing oddly constricted.

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and went downstairs to ask.

***

As the sun set Jaskier started to wonder… What if Geralt only said ‘I’ll ask for you’ to make him believe he could survive? What if it was a lie to make him go? What if Geralt knew for sure he wouldn’t make it? What if it was obvious and Jaskier believed otherwise only because he was too afraid to face the truth? What if anyone with a clear mind could easily tell it was hopeless? What if even Jaskier knew that all along? What if he was pretty damn sure and yet still lied to himself? What if he’s waiting for nothing? How long should he wait before it’s obvious? What if he should have said something, done something, but didn’t? What if he never sees him again? Would any of this had happened if Jaskier hadn't been there? _Of course not_. That was the only question he knew the answer to.

With every question, the hollow feeling that had hit him when he saw the flames from all the way up the hill was growing stronger. Every time he forced himself to remember Geralt’s tone of voice, the way he said it, the way he looked, the distance between him and the fire, he was less sure.

And by the next hour he was sure of nothing at all. 

***

He climbed down the stairs again. It had been dark outside for hours, and the place was extremely busy now. He heard people chatting and laughing, which only aggravated him more. His thoughts were running in circles. It had been so long since the last time he went. He was losing hope and, with it, the courage to ask. He was extremely protective of that little part of him which still firmly believed his panic was unjustified.

There was a young couple kissing by the stairs. He passed them without noticing, and then nearly walked into an old man who was sitting nearby to stare at them. Finally, he approached the barmaid again.

He didn’t even have to say anything.

‘No, nobody asked for you, I’m sorry,’ she said as soon as she saw him.

The sudden shock of her words hit him harder than expected. There was no way it would have taken Geralt that long to reach the town. There was no reasonable explanation.

The sound of the crowd was growing louder in his ears by the second. ‘Why are there so many people here?’ he asked, his voice sounding faint in his own ears.

‘Many of them escaped from Uvada.’

‘They walked from there?’ He hated having to speak up to break through the noise.

‘Some of them did. Some of them arrived on horseback earlier.’

‘How long since sunset?’ he asked loudly, hearing his voice break mid-word, eyes burning.

‘Four hours or so,’ she said, looking up at him, curious. She finally noticed he was upset and understood his questions were serious. At first, she enjoyed teasing him. She gossiped about his trips up and down the stairs with her friends, shamelessly speculating, enjoying all the theories they came up with, some quite gruesome, most very romantic, none of them mundane. She was beginning to feel bad for him now. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with concern, her voice growing softer. ‘I should have asked before. Who are you waiting for, exactly?’

‘Geralt of Rivia.’

‘What?’ She seemed unusually surprised by his response.

‘Why is that odd?’

‘Geralt is sitting there,’ she said pointing towards one of the tables at the back, ‘just there. He’s been sitting there and drinking for hours.’

‘ _What_?’ Jaskier measured her up in disbelief. ‘Are you sure it’s him?’

‘Oh, come on… He’s _a witcher_. He’s a bit hard to miss. I talked to him when he walked in. He…’ She stopped because it was clear he wasn’t listening. ‘Is anything wrong?’

Jaskier was frozen in place trying, and failing, to deal with an influx of strong, contradictory emotions. ‘Excuse me _,_ ’ he said, quietly, while pushing past her.

He passed many tables before reaching the back section of the tavern. At the last table in the corner there was Geralt, sitting comfortably, a beer in front of him, his swords behind him. Jaskier stood there and stared for a moment, feeling lightheaded. One of his ears suddenly started to ring.

‘Jaskier…’ Geralt noticed him easily, an unsteady, emotional mess in the middle of a busy, loud crowd. ‘You look like a fucking ghost.’

And, indeed, he’s never seen him like this. Jaskier’s eyes were swollen, his dark circles stood out terribly against his pasty but now increasingly flushed skin. He didn’t respond, just kept standing there, a tiny bit shaky. The feeling of relief was coming in slow waves. The nauseating tension gave way to an odd mix of elation and confusion. He tried to take a deep breath, but it ended up broken down into small, awkward gasps. He smiled lightly at Geralt, his eyes stinging, chest heaving like mad.

Geralt looked around, and noted that Jaskier, standing there in shock and awe, as if he just witnessed the second coming of all the gods he worshiped since childhood, stuck out too much for comfort. He didn’t want to attract any attention. ‘Come here,’ he said pointing at the chair opposite him.

He was relieved to see Jaskier actually listened and sat down, his expression still unchanged.

‘What did you imagine happened?’ Geralt asked him, genuinely curious, and a little bit surprised. He lowered his voice realising Jaskier managed to turn some heads, a few people still looking at them with interest. ‘They didn’t follow us all the way,’ Geralt explained, calmly. ‘They must have turned back, reasonable enough. There were branches blocking the path anyway.’ 

‘There was fire everywhere.’ Jaskier sounded breathless. His eyes growing softer, he reached over the table as if to touch Geralt’s hand but stopped himself mid movement, seeing him flinch. He pulled his hand back slowly, looking slightly confused by what he just did.

The voices around him were becoming audible again.

‘No, not _everywhere_. There was a river nearby.’ Geralt was trying to be considerate but sounded impatient instead. He was trying but not managing to see what things could have looked like from Jaskier’s perspective. ‘All I had to do was stay near the water and wait.’ Geralt was just trying to make him understand, but something about his tone seemed dismissive. ‘Things happened fast,’ he added, nearly apologetically. ‘I had to. You were choking on the smoke, panicking. It was obvious you’d be safer away.’

Jaskier didn’t respond, just blinked a few times, his look suddenly shifting. ‘So I could have stayed’, he said finally. ‘ _I could have_ , you just didn’t trust me to.’ He sounded hurt. His initial shock was slowly wearing off.

They sat there in silence for a moment, Jaskier’s breath normalising, thoughts racing.

‘Why didn’t you ask for me?’ Jaskier’s question was almost casual, sadness and anger simmering in the background, just a single bubble popping here and there.

‘I thought you’d be asleep.’

‘Oh _,_ really?’ His sadness fluidly transformed into anger. ‘Oh… Because _nothing_ improves one’s ability to drop into the state of tranquil slumber like imagining their brave, self-sacrificing friend torn into _bloody_ pieces by an army of Nilfgaardian soldiers! Beats counting sheep, that’s for sure.’ His hands began to dance in the air as he was becoming increasingly exasperated. ‘A hand here… A leg there… A random ghoul chewing on your throat. But no worries. It doesn’t matter. Why? Oh… Because your body would then burn into a crisp anyway! Too disfigured to be recognised? Oh, well… I guess I’d die having _no clue_ what actually happened. After, _you know_ … about forty years of wondering about it. That is, if I’m lucky enough to live that long without you around. Unless, of course…’ He stopped for a second, his eyes looking glassy. ‘Unless, you’d stay in one piece and… _burn alive_.’ He blinked a few times, his breath shaky. ‘Two swords still tied to your back… _I’d know_.’ He looked away from Geralt who seemed a little overwhelmed, his eyes growing bigger.

‘Jaskier,’ he stared, finally, trying to repress a smile. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a tad overdramatic? There were just a little over a dozen of them. And there was no way they could follow.’

‘I don’t care how many there were!’ Jaskier realised that people are beginning to stare and lowered his voice. ‘You _truly_ are a source of inspiration, Geralt. The stories just write themselves. I could have composed a hundred poems and songs today. The things I pictured… I’ll never be able to look at you the same way again! And in the meantime, you sat _here_ having a drink!’

Geralt was trying to break through the flood of words but Jaskier wouldn’t let him.

‘It’s good to know, just for clarity’s sake, that you don’t give a rat’s arse about how I feel. All _you_ worry about is how much of a bother I’d be if I stayed.’ He shook his head. ‘In the midst of a fire? Smoke so thick you can’t breathe? Rabid Nilfgaard soldiers at our back? Panicking is clearly an out-of-place response, I totally agree. So nice of you to get me out of that situation before I embarrassed myself even further.’ He took a deep breath and considered stopping there but couldn’t. ‘I’m _so_ glad, instead, I could spend a calming, relaxing day in a quiet room… My whole attention focused solely on losing my fucking mind! A process which, may I remind you, you could have stopped many hours ago.’

‘It was _the right_ thing to do. And I’ve dealt with worse.’ Geralt was getting a bit defensive. ‘I don’t find you crying in the corner every time I’m off to kill a fucking werewolf or a ghoul.’

‘This was…’ he hesitated, looking thrown off by Geralt’s words ‘… _different_.’ He looked around, uncomfortably, unwilling to dwell on why it felt so much worse this time. ‘And what about you? You weren’t worried I didn’t make it? Would it be a problem to ask? You felt… no need?’

‘I saw Roach outside,’ he stated simply, still sipping on his beer, perfectly calm and comfortable.

‘Unbelievable.’ Jaskier sounded resigned. He just sat there for a moment, his lips shaking slightly. ‘You know what?’ he asked, his voice breaking. ‘I’ll go upstairs and get some sleep. This is not helping.’ Suddenly he remembered. ‘I paid for your room, by the way.’ He sighed, annoyed with himself for sounding bitter. ‘ _You’re welcome._ ’

He stood up abruptly and attempted to push through the crowd to get to the stairs.

Geralt rolled his eyes, and left his beer, trying to catch up with him. ‘Jaskier, wait!’ He quickly maneuvered his way through the mass of chattering people, ignoring all those he bumped into on the way.

Jaskier was finally back in sight. Geralt grabbed his shoulder.

He turned around, more upset than before. ‘What? Do you want to tell me I’m overreacting?’ Geralt just stood there not knowing what to say. ‘Oh, I thought you might have died and got upset. _Ridiculous_! What an odd response to a perfectly normal, totally non-disturbing experience.’ He was increasingly exasperated. ‘You _must_ realise this is not as easy for me as it is for you.’

‘Calm, the fuck, down.’ Geralt noticed he raised his voice a bit too much. ‘Don’t… make a scene. Listen…’

‘I don’t have to. I understand. This is not _your_ fault for leaving me in total darkness. It’s my fault. Silly me. I was naive enough to believe you were going to do what you promised. And… I must have lost all my motherfucking marbles because I assumed, _oh-so-unreasonably_ , you would only send me away like this _if_ …’ He didn’t want to say it. ‘And then I dare to have all these stupid feelings. And in public, too!’ 

‘Jaskier, shut up, please.’ Geralt was looking around, noticing that even those who were too busy to pay attention to their fight before, were now raising their eyes. ‘We can talk upstairs,’ he added, trying to sound reconciliatory.

‘You _mind_ when people stare?’ Jaskier was getting angrier and angrier. ‘I don’t care who can see it! Let them watch.’ He looked around the crowd as if he was performing, tears finally streaming down his face, his voice shaking. ‘You’ve hurt me and I’m not going to pretend otherwise! Not for you, not for anybody!’

So focused on Geralt, he missed two armed men approaching them from the corner of the room. ‘Is he disturbing you?’ one of them asked Jaskier, staring at Geralt with rising suspicion, already grasping his sword.

‘What?’ Jaskier asked, disoriented. ‘No…’ He was caught completely off guard. ‘Of course not.’ It took him a moment to realise what was happening, his attitude instantly shifting. 

‘We should take it outside,’ added the first man. He was an intimidating-looking soldier. A deep scar on his hand was clearly visible in the shaky lamplight as he held out his arm to grasp Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt moved away.

Jaskier heard the sound of the other man drawing his sword, and quickly turned around to stand between him and Geralt. ‘Gentlemen, this is just a misunderstanding.’ He did his best to sound calm. ‘Everything is fine, I promise.’ He noticed more armed men approaching. The situation was escalating, just about ready to slip out of control.

He turned around for a second just to see Geralt shaking off the other soldier’s arm. ‘Will you, please, leave him alone?’ he asked with barely restrained anger. He was getting upset again. ‘All of you, please _,_ leave him alone,’ he repeated more calmly. 

The crowd began to murmur like a single, angry entity. A low hum was raising slowly around them. ‘Did you say he hurt you?’ one of the men at the closest table shouted towards Jaskier, his voice nearly drowned out by the noise. ‘Are you hurt?’ the question echoed in the crowd. Their concern felt like a threat.

‘I am _completely_ fine.’ Jaskier wiped off any remaining tears and feigned a smile, slowly building up his confidence. ‘Geralt might look _a bit_ intimidating but he is far from a threat.’ He looked back at Geralt who was tired, clearly not in the mood to slaughter people who just survived a slaughter. It was obvious Jaskier had to handle this himself.

‘Yesterday he saved my life,’ he said loudly so everyone could hear. ‘As he would do for any of you, if given a chance!’ He stared back at Geralt for a second. ‘I… _ehm_ …’ Now he regretted leaving his lute upstairs. ‘I am a bard,’ he exclaimed proudly. ‘One day I’ll sing you a song about his _heroic_ deeds.’

The energy in the room was shifting and Jaskier grasped on to that.

‘Yesterday…’ he started while stepping on a nearby chair and then the table. ‘Yesterday Uvada was under attack, as I think you know. Many people lost their lives.’ They were all listening now. ‘We narrowly escaped the slaughter. We were chased by a group of Nilfgaardian soldiers, a wall of fire behind them. We could hear the screams, the swords swinging, the trees falling… There was the smell of ash and burnt flesh in the air. It was hell.’ He made a dramatic pause. ‘But Geralt… he gave me his horse and let me ride away to safety, staying behind, amid danger, with little over a dozen of Nilfgaardian soldiers just a few feet away. He distracted them so they wouldn’t follow me. He was outnumbered and yet fought so bravely.’

The crowd was murmuring approvingly. Jaskier noted that the soldiers moved away from Geralt, their eyes fixed on him instead.

‘He killed as many as he could,’ a couple of cheers broke his flow, and he acknowledged them with a nod, ‘but the situation was hopeless.’ He stopped for a second to rethink the story, slowly realising that, of course, all the scenarios he made up during the day involved Geralt dying at the end. ‘But at the last minute… a great, burning tree fell down and separated him from the threat. He could still see them through the flames, their black armour gleaming in the light.’ He stopped to think again. ‘One of their horses got scared by the fire and ran off. Geralt caught it and managed to ride away just in time.’

The crowd sighed in relief as if they expected a tragic ending despite Geralt standing there clearly alive and well.

‘So as you can see…’ he was wrapping it up, noting Geralt motioning him to go. ‘I am but a humble servant to this remarkable man.’ He bowed while looking directly at Geralt, a bratty grin on his face, just a hint of bitterness in his voice. Then he straightened up, tossed back his hair, and delivered a glowing smile to the audience.

Some clapped, some sneered, a few women waved and cheered, others simply got back to drinking. One man vomited loudly in the corner but Jaskier considered that unrelated to his performance.

Most importantly, the soldiers walked back roughly to where they stood before. Unfortunately, they were still throwing cautious glances at Geralt, and some men gathered in groups, talking in low voices, clearly unconvinced by the story and worried about a witcher staying in their town.

Geralt approached Jaskier with caution, aware that he was being watched. ‘Get your things. It’s not safe to stay.’

Jakier nodded and ran up the stairs.

As he walked into the empty room and remembered his panic, he finally fully grasped that everything was, in fact, fine. Infuriating but fine. And he laughed to himself at the ridiculousness of it all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An innkeeper thinks they're fucking? Room sharing? Thinly veiled confessions of love? 
> 
> Geralt is just putting up with that bullshit to appease Jaskier. It would be a real shame if he left now, wouldn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments on the previous chapters! They make me so happy. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this :)

They were walking through the night with barely any lights coming from the scattered houses. It felt even later than it was. The sudden quiet and calm hit them like an unexpected interruption. All the upset of the cramped, hot rooms they just left behind was slowly evaporating into the cool air. Geralt kept looking back at the tavern but it was already fading from sight. Nobody seemed to have followed them.

Jaskier appeared to be perfectly calm now. He shuddered, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Why is it so cold tonight?’ he asked, his voice swollen and faded. His stage persona was wearing off, and exhaustion settling in.

‘It’s not. You’re just tired. Did you eat at all?’

Jaskier just walked quietly for a while. ‘No,’ he said, finally, revisiting the memory of the nauseating stress tormenting him throughout the day.

‘We’ll find something.’ Geralt did his best to sound reassuring.

‘I’ll be fine.’ Jaskier’s voice was oddly distant, not something either of them were used to.

Geralt opened the saddle bag and took out an old blanket. ‘Here.’

‘No, I don’t need it. _I_ _’m fine_.’ He moved away slightly.

‘For fuck’s sake, Jaskier.’ Geralt took the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. ‘Stop fussing about a stupid blanket. Just…’ He fought against Jaskier who was trying to push it off. ‘Just leave it on.’

Jaskier reluctantly did so and was visibly better for it. After a minute, he adjusted it, and held on to it with some out-of-place, stubborn determination. ‘It just feels stupid,’ he said with a mix of frustration and sadness in his voice. ‘Makes me feel stupid, anyway,’ he added, his voice barely a whisper. ‘To wait and wait when you feel like nobody’s coming.’

Geralt looked at him, concerned, but didn’t say a thing. The soft clop of Roach’s hooves was the only sound they could hear. 

***

The owner of the White Eagle, a grubby inn at the other side of town, was not pleased to see them. Unimpressed with neither Geralt’s intimidating physique nor Jaskier’s soft charm, she greeted them with a dead, shark-like stare. Her eyes traveled from Jaskier, a vivid picture of misery and exhaustion, to Geralt, his face a mix of barely perceptible impatience, guilt and worry.

Geralt looked around, noticing they seemed to be the only clients. The place was not well lit and felt somehow abandoned, a series of empty, grimy tables was disappearing into the darkness of the rooms behind them. 

‘Could we order some food?’ Geralt inquired casually, as if it was a normal question to ask a few hours before sunrise.

Jaskier looked up, surprised.

‘The kitchen is closed,’ she responded sharply, her voice frosty and apathetic. ‘Does the place look open to you?’

‘No, I understand.’ Geralt looked back at Jaskier as if to remind himself why it made sense to put up with her and controlled his temper. ‘I was hoping you could help us. It’s been a hard day as I’m sure you understand.’

She didn’t look like she understood. She began wiping the table with some dirty rag, which possibly also served to ‘clean’ the floor, or any other surface, and ignored them completely. Her movements were careless and superficial as if the success of her own actions was indifferent to her.

Geralt opened his mouth to speak again.

‘ _Geralt_ …’ Jaskier started, just about ready to stop him, thinking the situation might escalate and leave them without a place to stay.

‘Perhaps,’ Geralt continued, calmly, ‘there’s something left in the kitchen that might otherwise go to waste.’

She considered it for a moment, slowly realising he was not going to give up easily. Her sturdy figure turned towards him, as if she accepted the challenge. ‘We have some soup left,’ she admitted.

‘That would do just fine.’

‘…but there’s nobody here to heat it up.’

Geralt took a deep breath as if about to say something but didn’t. ‘Would you be so kind and heat it up for _us_?’ He smiled at her, a desperate grimace but clear enough to avoid being misunderstood.

Jaskier looked shocked at the sight, his mind hung up on the ‘us’ in that sentence.

‘My _friend_ here…’ Geralt motioned towards Jaskier as if it wasn’t obvious who he was talking about. ‘He lost his daughter today, in Uvada. A Nilfgaardian soldier put a sword through her right in front of his eyes. He hasn’t slept in nearly two days, hasn’t eaten. This is not much to ask.’

Jaskier looked at Geralt, eyes wide, totally failing to hide the story was news to him. Then looked back at her, a bit startled, somehow glad he didn’t have to try too hard to appear sad and exhausted.

‘Everyone who arrived here today has a story like that. They all had the courtesy to order their soup _before_ the sun came down.’ Her tone was completely unaffected. ‘Not to mention… he doesn’t look like he lost a child, or ever had one.’ Her attention focused on Jaskier for a minute. ‘That’s not grief,’ she assessed with the confidence of an expert. ‘It is heartbreak of some sort, alright. But petty _._ A lover’s spat at the absolute worst.’

Jaskier jumped forwards a bit, offended. Geralt pushed him back, almost involuntarily. Unexpectedly, Jaskier pushed against him in response. He ended up looking quite helpless, his efforts making absolutely no difference.

‘Do you need a room?’ she asked, her tone unassuming but eyes narrowing slightly.

‘ _What_?’ Both stopped struggling and stared at her.

She was finally starting to find some enjoyment in the situation. ‘Well, _do you_?’ she asked, weirdly pleased with herself. ‘I have to ask the staff. I’m not sure if there’s anything left.’

‘Rooms, we need _rooms_ ,’ Geralt clarified.

‘Fine. Ask me again when I’m back.’

‘Wait.’ Geralt stopped her. ‘I didn’t want to tell you, but… _Jaskier_.’ He turned to him. ‘Tell her the truth.’

‘What?’ He just looked back at him, tired and puzzled.

‘Come on, tell her, it’s fine.’

‘Right, _well_ …’ He looked at Geralt for some sort of guidance but he just nodded, encouragingly. ‘It’s true, I’ve never had a daughter. I’m sorry about that.’ This clearly wasn’t helping. ‘But I have… _ehm_ … Geralt?’ Seeing that Geralt was not willing to help, he stopped to come up with some story, not realising what he just said. His mind was a total blank.

Geralt stared in disbelief. ‘He,’ he pointed at Jaskier. ‘He’s just tired. He meant to say…’

‘Fine _._ ’ She looked at them both, too exhausted to cope with more. ‘You’ll have your _bloody_ soup.’

***

The bowl was filled with some watered down, semi-transparent slush, a quarter of an egg, one slice of a sausage and two dry leaves of marjoram suspended in the liquid like a pair of dead fish.

Geralt didn’t dare to complain.

‘Ehm…’ He attempted to attract the owner’s attention while looking at Jaskier greedily devouring the disastrous meal. ‘We’ll take some bread with that.’

She brought it over in a small basket which she pushed towards Jaskier with pure disdain.

Nearly all the food disappeared in what felt like seconds.

‘ _Fuck me_ , Geralt. I swear on _all the gods_ … I really needed that.’

‘Mhm,’ Geralt grunted, looking at the soup dripping off Jaskier’s chin. ‘I could tell. You were… fading.’

‘Fading?’ Jaskier clearly found the word amusing, his energy levels shooting back up. ‘That’s very poetic of you, Geralt.’ He smiled, chewing the bread. ‘So, what do I normally do? _Glow_? _Illuminate_?’

‘You do glow… a bit.’

Jaskier laughed quite loudly, and the sound echoed in the empty space. The owner looked at them with disapproval.

‘That’s endearing, Geralt. It really is.’ He pretended to be moved to tears. ‘Maybe you can really see me.’

‘Let’s not take it too far.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare,’ he responded feigning seriousness, his eyes clearly smiling. ‘You know, sometimes,’ he grinned at Geralt, ‘I’m only that far up because you are so far down. If only there was a way to fix that.’

‘I’ll ask if we can stay.’ Geralt stood up, ignoring Jaskier’s chatter.

Jaskier was just finishing the last bits of the bread, looking up at Geralt as he approached the grumpy owner.

‘We only have one room left,’ she announced, annoyed, as if that was somehow their fault.

‘That’s fine. We can share.’

‘Oh, can you?’ she responded with feigned shock. ‘That’s a surprise.’

Geralt looked back at Jaskier, who was finding it all mildly amusing now. ‘Yes. We can,’ he responded simply, ignoring her tone of voice. 

‘Well, good luck with that _._ ’

He waited, expecting her to show them to their room. She just stared at him as if he was standing in her way.

‘It’s upstairs, as you can imagine,’ she explained slowly, as if she was speaking to a child. ‘It’s the only one with a key still in the door. Not hard to find. Just, you know, check the keyhole.’ It sounded like a joke, but she looked deadly serious. ‘I’m sure it’s all fine if you just pay in the morning.’

‘Thank you,’ Geralt said, reluctantly.

‘You’re _very_ welcome.’

***

‘You are _very_ welcome.’ Jaskier was working on his best impression of the tavern owner while climbing up the stairs.

‘What the fuck was wrong with her?’ Geralt was slightly aggravated, already anticipating a mess of a room.

‘You don’t know?’

‘No.’

‘In that case, stay innocent, my friend.’ Jaskier smiled to himself and patted Geralt on the back.

‘People who have issues with witchers…’

‘No, this was a whole other prejudice.’ 

Geralt just shook his head.

‘Or maybe that’s not it.’ Jaskier shrugged his shoulders. ‘We simply don’t act the way people usually do in these situations.’

‘What situations?’

‘Good point.’

‘Stop blaming _us_ for _her_ bullshit.’

As they reached a long corridor, Jaskier launched ahead, searching for the room. ‘Geralt?’ he whispered, his voice resonating through the empty space.

‘Yes?’

‘There’s only one bed.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing, just saying.’

Geralt walked up to the room to assess the problem. ‘Fuck, it’s small and shitty too.’

‘Is that a single?’

‘I can’t even tell if that’s worse or better.’

‘For what?’

‘Nothing. It’s fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.’

‘I can take the bed… but have to stay away from Roach unless it’s a dreadful emergency?’

‘Precisely.’

‘I don’t understand your priorities.’

***

‘Are you still angry with me?’

‘A little.’ Jaskier shifted on the bed, trying to make himself comfortable. ‘Not _too_ angry. You did save my life… again. It would be petty to fret over the details. Who would dare to question a knight in shining armour? Or, you know, look a gift horse in the mouth? _Especially_ if it’s Roach. I have no right to complain.’

Geralt couldn’t tell if Jaskier was mocking him or being serious. Perhaps it was both. ‘I didn’t know you would respond this way.’

‘ _Oh_ …’ Jaskier rolled his eyes, ‘because my feelings are _so_ hard to read?’

‘Jaskier…’ Geralt sounded resigned. He held out his hand and reached for Jaskier’s shoulder but he shifted away in the dark. Geralt was surprised at first but the feeling quickly turned into repressed anger. ‘Fine,’ he said a bit louder than he planned, ‘keep brooding if you must.’

‘I will, Geralt. I don’t need your permission.’

They were just lying there in silence for a while. Geralt struggled to arrange his blanket in a sufficiently pillow-like shape. Jaskier was weirdly restless. The straw in the mattress was uneven and created little dips. It was also sagging in the middle. 

‘If you _really_ need me to say it,’ Geralt started again, ‘then _I_ _’m sorry_.’

‘Can you say that again but even angrier and even _less_ like you mean it?’

Geralt laughed and Jaskier smiled in response.

‘Don’t apologise,’ Jaskier started in a reconciliatory tone. ‘It’s not your fault you don’t see these things the way I do. I _obviously_ don’t see them the way you do either.’ He stayed silent for a minute and hesitated before he started again. ‘I guess what I want is not something you can ask for. And if it’s not there, you can shout about it and expect it. You can be bitter about it. You can beg for it if you like. It does nothing. It just proves it’s not there.’

‘You’re making _no sense_.’

Jaskier laughed nervously, sounding a bit breathy, a note of sadness seeping into his every word and move. ‘I don’t want you to die saving my life,’ he said, finally. ‘I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.’ He sounded serious and much more lucid.

‘Is that what’s bothering you?’

‘Amongst other things.’ He turned his back at Geralt and put his head down on the pillow.

‘I wouldn’t mind dying for you,’ Geralt said, casually.

‘What?’

‘I wouldn’t mind.’

Jaskier sat up on the bed and looked straight at him. ‘Dying is not something a person can simply not mind.’

‘Who’s not understanding somebody else’s feelings now?’ Geralt smiled to himself as he began to doze off, looking oddly comfortable in the middle of a hard floor.

*** 

Geralt woke up with a feeling that something was wrong. The room was excessively bright and felt empty.

At first, he thought they must have been so desperate for sleep when they arrived, they hadn’t even drawn the curtains. But somebody had opened the window when Geralt was asleep. The rays of sunshine were dancing on the glass. The curtain moved with the wind. It was noisy outside. It was all Jaskier’s doing, of course. Geralt imagined him letting in the light and the fresh air, as if it was the most natural thing to do. Perhaps he even hummed to himself as he did it. Geralt wouldn’t put that past him.

He lifted himself up to throw a glance at the bed and confirm what he already knew. Nobody there. Not a trace of Jaskier’s things. It was as if Geralt had been alone in there the whole night. No, morning, and only realised it now.

Unlikely.

But was it? He imagined Jaskier leaving the moment he fell asleep, moving quietly to avoid waking him up. And for some reason, he imagined him leaving the town. Leaving for good. The thought came to him just like that, for no good reason. And once it arrived, it sat there, comfortable, determined to stay.

Suddenly there was a tightness in his chest, a dull echo of what Jaskier felt waiting for him the day before. Only he didn’t know that, of course. But he suddenly regretted his half-arsed apology, felt bad for raising his voice at the tavern, remembered the look Jaskier gave him when he did, his shoulder moving away, the resignation in his voice.

After that it was fine, though, surely.

Jaskier was not the one to leave. He followed him around regardless, relentlessly so, even unwanted and not encouraged, even _discouraged_ , he was there. Mostly.

Only… Everything has a limit. Everything ends. Everything breaks when you apply too much pressure. Everything runs out, eventually. Even if not now, then soon, maybe. At some point, any point, if he’s not careful. Even if he is careful.

It’s a delicate balance to sustain, perhaps an impossible one.

Because, Geralt thought almost despite himself, if you don’t feed it, it dies. And if you do, it comes back hungry.

***

When Geralt walked out into the corridor, he moved slowly, an image of perfect calm and self-control. Only he did pack his things a little faster than he normally would, came up with a few alternative plans, was hanging on to certain scenarios a bit more than others. He was more unsettled than usual, a slight dryness at the back of his throat which made him feel almost like he was choking, his heartbeat _lightly_ accelerated, but nothing to be concerned about.

Then he heard it, the singing downstairs, and his breath got caught in his throat, involuntarily.

He walked down, the sound growing louder with each step.

Jaskier was sitting on a table, a proper crowd around him. He noticed Geralt and waved, seemingly carefree, a light smile.

Geralt met that smile with a confused stare, and growing anger. He walked towards him a bit too fast, then stopped at a reasonable distance as if he realised what he was doing was ridiculous. Lucky for him, his outburst played out nearly unnoticed. He backed away slowly. The audience was fully focused on the performance.

It took him a moment to realise Jaskier was not making a point, just doing what he does.

But the point was made regardless.

And it was far from the only one.

They arrived so late. Jaskier couldn’t have had much sleep. And yet even Geralt, knowing him as he did, would not be able to spot any signs of tiredness, no traces of yesterday’s upset. There was nothing but pure, radiating, relentless enthusiasm in his performance. It seemed so natural, so casual, and effortless. And yet, every piece of clothing was carefully selected, every note in tune.

His voice went higher, almost higher than he could handle. By all logic, it should simply sound off-key and yet came off as soft and vulnerable instead, an echo of last night’s sadness shining through for a split second. It sent shivers down Geralt’s spine, making him uncomfortable. He didn’t like seeing him so open in public, as if he just shared too much, and something that wasn’t just his to share.

And yet, it was so deliberate and controlled, it made Geralt wonder if Jaskier would be able to playact all they’ve been through yesterday if he was so inclined. Every drop of his authentic feelings clearly thought through and included with purpose, every crack in his voice meticulously planned. He was carefully painting a picture and his emotions were just different shades for him to mix and use however he chose. Nothing personal about how personal this felt. Perhaps that’s how Jaskier could let strangers roam in the corridors of his internal life without getting hurt, all labels blurred, signs removed. 

It was a bit dreamlike. Some people were talking, their voices humming with casual, everyday conversations, and then there was Jaskier in the middle, trapped within a bubble of his own creation, projecting heartbreak which felt uniquely his own.

Then, suddenly, his voice turned into a low growl. It resonated through the audience. Like magic, it transformed the women around him. Their pupils widened, hearts accelerated, breath quickened. He held their attention with such strength and confidence. All eyes focused on him, all bodies leaning towards him.

Geralt reluctantly admitted to himself there was something impressive about this, the soft power Jaskier wielded so freely. Perhaps it was the same unbreakable force which made Geralt put up with all this and kept him caught up in this mess. It wasn’t a thought he liked but it was hard to ignore. 

Somehow, he was able to understand the logic of Jaskier getting himself out of bed early and doing all this. He was compensating, indulging in the feeling of control that slipped out of his hands so dramatically the day before. His face just looked relaxed but Geralt could recognise relief when he saw it. Jaskier was drinking their admiration and awe, soaking in it, giving it all he had, satisfied like a thirsty animal dipping into a spring after a drought. 

Then the song turned cheerful, a happy resolution to the angst of the few moments before. The audience relaxed into a state of tranquillity. Oddly enough so did Geralt. He sat down, waiting for Jaskier to finish.

***

Focused on Jaskier, Geralt missed the sight of a woman who was observing him from a few tables away. She approached him casually, curious, her movements strangely fluid.

‘Aliya,’ she introduced herself as if he encouraged her to. ‘Geralt, right?’

He nodded. He expected her to start chatting away, but she didn’t. She just sat down next to him, ordered a drink, and stayed quiet. She had short, dark, curly hair, full lips, and her brown skin had an odd shine to it. There was something unusual about her, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Her linen clothes looked comfortable and unassuming, function over aesthetics, but carefully matched nevertheless, elegant even. There was also something that looked like blood caught in one of her curls. She wasn’t hurt, though.

He felt strangely compelled to throw a glance at his medallion, but it was perfectly calm, no sign of danger.

‘Your friend is very kind,’ she started, finally. ‘He managed to cheer up the children.’

Geralt did notice Jaskier’s audience was unusually busy with young families. They must have escaped the fire yesterday and stayed here waiting for an opportune moment to move towards the border. The safest way to go. 

‘That’s because he’s a big baby himself,’ he said with an angry sigh.

‘That’s a bit harsh. It’s hard to come by these days. That kind of positivity.’

‘I suppose so.’ He didn’t seem convinced, annoyed, using every opportunity to vent some of his frustration.

She looked at him with growing interest. ‘He’s a good writer, too, leaves a lot of space for interpretation.’

Geralt didn’t respond, sensing a provocation.

‘It’s something to appreciate,’ she continued, not discouraged at all, ‘optimism, creativity, openness… All so rare and so crucial, especially under the circumstances. Something to hold on to when death knocks at the door.’

His silence was not discouraging to her. Sipping on wine, she was completely unconcerned about the questioning looks of people who were judging her choice of a morning drink. She looked perfectly relaxed and comfortable.

‘How did you manage to get wine in this dump?’

‘I asked… nicely.’

‘It looked like a normal order to me.’

‘Well, if it’s not important, why would you pay attention?’

She stared straight at him and he looked away, unsettled for no particular reason. 

‘People respond in odd ways to all this,’ she started, unprompted. ‘It’s quite compelling if you don’t treat it personally. Children are a mess, of course. So many people are breaking down completely. Fear gets so boring, so quickly. Paralyzing. Limiting. Predictable.’ She stared at Geralt again until he looked up, slightly puzzled. ‘And these two… you see?’ She pointed at a young couple sitting a few tables away. ‘Ever since me and Lianna,’ she pointed at a blond woman sitting close to Jaskier. ‘Ever since we arrived here, they’ve just been humping like rabbits. It’s like they’re hoping to singlehandedly repopulate the country. And Lianna herself… Just look _at that._ ’ Lianna’s eyes were firmly set on Jaskier. Aliya sighed. ‘So desperate for a distraction.’ She shook her head.

They sat in silence for a moment longer, listening to Jaskier sing. Geralt was slowly realising she was more focused on him than the song, feeling more and more exposed somehow. He looked back at her.

‘But, you know, a crisis,’ she started again, seemingly out of context, her eyes still set on him. ‘Sometimes it makes the impossible, possible. Sometimes it breaks barriers. Sometimes it breaks through bullshit.’

The pair she pointed out before paid up and went upstairs. Aliya’s eyes followed them almost involuntarily.

‘Fuck them _._ Maybe I should do the same,’ she sighed.

Geralt was not interested. ‘Jaskier wouldn’t say no if you asked.’

‘Do you know that from experience?’

He did not expect that comeback at all and looked rather confused.

‘Sorry.’ Aliya did not sound sorry at all. ‘Too easy.’

‘Mhm. How so?’ Geralt’s best attempts to sound indifferent were failing.

She smiled. ‘I don’t know. Seems like a sore spot, that’s all.’ She took another sip, observing him closely. ‘You’d be surprised how obvious you are.’ She stayed silent for a moment, ignoring his murderous stare. ‘But don’t worry. Most people are tragically blind. And the rest usually knows better than to judge.’ She waved at Lianna who was just looking around, searching for her. ‘It’s an old story. You think you took a single step, but you are, in fact, falling face first into it.’

Geralt looked at her as if she was going mad, and she just responded with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘I’m not falling into anything.’

‘No need to get defensive.’ Her look was nearly reassuring. ‘Gods know I’m also tired of it, sometimes.’

‘Of what?’

‘The world… we live in.’ She raised her glass and looked resigned.

***

‘Geralt, look!’ Jaskier finished his final song and came around, cradling a baby. ‘Isn’t this a cute little baby girl?’

‘Keep that away from me.’

Jaskier started laughing, finding his response much more amusing than Geralt ever would have anticipated.

‘Just,’ Geralt started again, already anticipating what might happen next, ‘give it back.’

‘You truly are a ray of sunshine, Geralt.’ Jaskier turned the baby towards him. ‘See that grumpy old bastard? Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t mean to push us away, not really.’ The baby was making happy cooing noises, clearly not bothered. ‘He might look like a miserable sod but he is a source of hope in this cruel, dark world.’

The baby was increasingly enthusiastic and started grasping for Geralt’s hair.

‘The baby sees my point!’ Jaskier turned to the baby. ‘ _You like that_? I guarantee you _he_ doesn’t.’ He was clearly enjoying this. ‘But do we care?’ He lifted her up in the air. ‘No, we don’t. No, _we_ don’t.’

‘We should go.’ Geralt was desperate to leave. He looked around. Both Aliya and Lianna already left, which he was very glad about. 

‘You’re being weird, you know that?’ Jaskier was staring at him, bemused. He was holding the baby close and failed to notice she was happily drooling all over his collar. ‘What was that little dance you made when you walked in?’

Geralt didn’t respond.

‘And why are you looking at me like that?’ he asked, finding Geralt’s facial expression a bit funny.

‘Like what?’ 

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Jaskier smiled and wondered for a moment. ‘Like I’m even more of a problem than I was before.’


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the war tightens its grip around them, Jaskier begins to yearn for female company. Geralt might as well let him indulge a bit. What could possibly go wrong?

‘So, we cross and then we’re safe,’ Jaskier summarised, not convinced at all, clearly looking for some reassurance.

‘No, it’s not that easy.’ Geralt sounded tired.

They were moving along a broad track filled with people who were slowly, unsteadily moving towards the border.

A woman ahead of them was cradling a baby which kept on crying, relentless, somehow redder in the face and louder with every passing minute. She was alone and her clothes were old and shabby, a torn sleeve was awkwardly covering her hand. A much better dressed couple was walking close by. They kept fighting. Their shouting was barely breaking through the low hum of human voices. They seemed to agree on little beyond their shared disgust with the unfortunate woman. They were throwing angry glances at her in unison, all other movements in disarray.

She was too exhausted to notice.

Behind them there was a horse pulling a wagon filled with wounded men, the stench overwhelming. Geralt didn’t have to turn back to know some of them died on the way, and yet nobody bothered to dispose of the bodies. Other wagons were filled with as many belongings as they could carry, contents of people’s houses in random concoctions precariously stacked on top of each other, shaking with every bump on the road.

There were cows and pigs scattered throughout the crowd, donkeys pressing against their legs as they passed. 

It was close to noon now and clear skies never felt more oppressive. The air was hot and dry. They were walking surrounded by fields, away from the cooling shade of the forest. The feet dragging all around them were raising the dust from the road, a suffocating cloud rising as they walked. There were more people joining in from smaller paths, like little streams flowing into a large, heavy, overflowing river of the main road. Every new wave of people was making Geralt increasingly uneasy. The space was shrinking, the pace slowing and there were still miles to go.

Roach was uncomfortable, not used to so much movement and fuss around her. Geralt kept calming her down but his attempts seemed increasingly futile.

Jaskier was doing his best to fake composure but kept looking at the crowd, failing to hide the mix of sadness and anxiety the sight was causing him. He looked at Geralt and smiled, the expression faint but genuine. ‘This reminds me, Velterden of Gildernvorg, the historian, wrote that in the times of war…’ he started but Geralt interrupted him.

‘We should go back.’

‘What?’ Jaskier stared at him in disbelief.

‘There’s too many.’

‘But…’

‘They’ll close the border.’

Jaskier stopped. The man behind him bumped straight into him and started swearing but then noticed Geralt and turned very quiet and still, blocking the flow of people behind him. ‘And let them all die?’ Jaskier asked Geralt, completely ignoring the disruption they caused.

‘Not all of them will die,’ Geralt explained calmly while letting the man pass them. ‘Just most of them.’

‘That’s _reassuring_.’

‘It wasn’t meant to be.’

‘That’s…’ Suddenly he looked drained, the short night finally taking its toll. ‘We can’t.’

‘We’ll find a way.’ Geralt was doing his best to sound confident.

‘I’m not worried about _us_.’

Geralt stopped ‘you should be’ before it escaped his mouth and looked at Jaskier, a stain of colour amongst the grey-brown crowd moving behind him, weirdly out of place, looking back at him, expecting better. ‘Some of those at the front would have gotten through. We’re too late. We should at least get off the main road.’

‘Where to?’

‘For now, away from them. This will attract trouble.’ He moved ahead to resume walking and instantly stumbled on an old, worn leather bag someone must have dropped. It made him lose his train of thought. There were clothes falling out through a tear, already sinking into the sand, crushed and buried by the many stomping feet. 

Jaskier just nodded, his eyes following a group of children playing in the field ahead of them. Their angry parents gave up on the shouting and ran out to catch them and drag them back onto the road. ‘The next path, then?’ he asked, moving a bit closer to Geralt, the crowd pressing on them.

‘Maybe not. That’s going west.’

‘And they’ll just keep walking?’

‘Some will turn back. Some will keep going. They’ll build a camp outside the gate. They’ll wait. But the only thing that will come is whatever might be hiding in that forest ahead of us, and the soldiers behind us.’

‘In that case, shouldn’t we _…_ ’

‘No, we definitely shouldn’t.’

Jaskier let out a resigned, sad laugh, shook his head and looked around as if surprised by what he was seeing. ‘It’s ridiculous.’ He looked overwhelmed.

‘It’s what it is.’

‘We’re not talking about some random force of nature here. It’s people. Actual people, with hearts and minds.’

‘What did you expect?’

‘I’m not being naive.’ He turned to Geralt, looking serious. ‘It’s very different when you read about it. When you mention it casually in a conversation, a bit drunk perhaps, with some friends around you. You say…’ he started but instantly went quiet, took a deep breath, and stared ahead, blankly.

‘We all made decisions. Those who make the wrong ones die. Those who make the right ones and are out of luck also die. There are no guarantees. We’re all taking our chances here.’

‘Are you saying they are responsible somehow? If you weren’t here, I’d keep walking along with them.’

‘You don’t know what you’d be doing if I weren’t here.’

'I do. Not much. I’d be dead… at the Stag Head _.’_ He dropped his arms, resigned. ‘It _fucking_ rhymes. _’_

Geralt was losing his patience. ‘Some decide to attack. Some decide to close the fucking border. Some don’t know how this shit works. You can consider the philosophical implications of this, write songs about it, and wonder what it means… if it _can_ mean anything. There will be time for that. Not now.’ Jaskier looked far from persuaded. ‘Right?’

‘Not now?’

‘ _Not now_.’

‘Right.’ Jaskier took a deeper breath again.

They walked silently for a while looking out for a path, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in the crowd.

Jaskier kept observing people, staring at their faces, listening to snippets of conversations. ‘Is it hard for you?’ he asked Geralt, finally.

‘What?’

‘Knowing first-hand how this shit works.’

Geralt was surprised by the question and looked at Jaskier who seemed genuinely concerned for him. He sighed. ‘It sure as fuck beats being surprised.’

‘Wait, Geralt?’ Jaskier tapped him on the shoulder, looking ahead, curious. ‘Those two. They’re going off the track.’ He focused his eyes best he could to beat the distance. ‘Aren’t those the women we saw at the tavern?’

Geralt looked at the two figures walking towards the forest. He recognised Aliya and Lianna with slight disbelief. As determined as he was not to care, he felt a little intrigued. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they want to cross by Vadenia.’ He explained to Jaskier. ‘There’s barely anybody left alive in there. Even then, there will be _some_ guards at the border. And it’s miles and miles of fields and woodland.’

‘Isn’t that still a better plan than walking back where we came from?’

‘No, it’s suicide.’ He shook his head, looking at them disapprovingly. ‘Some people have no self-preservation instinct.’ He turned to Jaskier but he was already running ahead, through the field, to catch up with the women.

Geralt swore loudly, attracting the attention of a young boy passing him by.

***

‘We’re family,’ Aliya explained to Jaskier after introducing them both, stating it as if it was obvious.

Geralt looked at them for a moment, beyond sceptical. They were both approximately the same age, most likely late 20s. He stared at Aliya with her coal black hair, dark skin and brown eyes, and then the extremely pale Lianna with flowing, long, golden hair and deep blue eyes. 

‘Half… sisters,’ Lianna added almost apologetically.

‘We’re crossing the border,’ Aliya confirmed, casually.

‘And how are you planning to do that?’ Geralt didn’t seem convinced at all.

‘Well…’ Aliya shrugged her shoulders and thought about it for a moment. ‘I’m going to approach the gate, pretend to be a whore and ask them to let me see their captain. Once they let me in, I will start with killing the command and then will move on from there. One by one, they will all fall until there is not a single survivor.’

Jaskier laughed and looked at Geralt, genuinely amused. ‘You’ve met your match, clearly.’

‘We just think it would be a shame…’ Lianna hesitated ‘…not to try. Let’s go and see.’

‘All you can possibly see at that border are the guards and they are hardly thrilling to look at,’ Geralt explained, doubting whether it needed to be said.

‘That depends,’ Lianna stated joyfully while staring at Jaskier with clear interest.

‘I think,’ Jaskier started, ‘we could, ehm…’ He smiled at Lianna and then looked at Geralt, rather nervously ‘…help.’

‘I’m not sure if we need help,’ Aliya didn’t seem enthused by the idea.

‘Oh, Aliya, please.’ Lianna smiled at her, sweetly. ‘It’s _boring_ to be so self-sufficient.’

‘We know what we’re doing,’ Aliya assured Geralt.

‘Perhaps we do,’ Lianna seemed slightly annoyed, ‘but I want some company.’

‘Do you remember what happened the last time you said that?’ Aliya was not having it.

‘This time will be different _._ ’

‘Are you sure you know?’ Geralt ignored their bickering. ‘This is two days’ worth of walking and it’s dangerous off the main track. A lot of creatures lurking there. Not all the bodies Nilfgaard left behind are happy to stay in their shallow graves.’

‘That’s exactly why we’re going. Nobody in their right mind would travel through Vadenia right now. It’s a clear track and an easier crossing.’ Aliya sounded confident, but both Jaskier and Geralt seemed confused by that logic.

‘The views are nice,’ Lianna added in a weak attempt to strengthen Aliya’s argument.

‘You will most likely die,’ Geralt stated simply and Aliya looked mildly amused in response.

‘Are you looking for work? Is that what this is?’ She was getting frustrated.

‘It’s fine.’ Geralt lightly pulled on Jaskier’s sleeve to drag him away as he was slowly moving towards Lianna. ‘We will not bother you.’ He was ready to walk away.

‘It’s almost the full moon,’ Lianna whined, staring at Aliya with a growing determination.

‘Shit, Lianna,’ Aliya stopped and stared at her, her look suddenly shifting. ‘Do you really want to cross?’ she asked Geralt with renewed curiosity.

‘It’s not possible.’

‘It’s not possible here. Not with this crowd, the extra reinforcements, and not with Nilfgaard already on its way. All we can expect here is a slaughter.’

‘Geralt-’ Jaskier started but Geralt ignored him.

‘Crossing the border is not the only way.’ Geralt nodded as if to convince himself.

‘But it’s the best way, isn’t it _?_ ’ She smiled. ‘Isn’t that what you’d be doing if you weren’t worried about… something fragile.’ She looked at Jaskier and he looked back at her surprised.

‘No, I wouldn’t.’ Geralt smiled warily. ‘As you explained, no one in their right mind would.’

‘I will, and not a single hair from Lianna’s head will be lost.’ She carefully grasped a strand of Lianna’s golden locks, lifted it up and let it go, the hair gently falling into place with a shimmer.

Jaskier was staring like he was hypnotized. Geralt took a deep breath, ready to say something but decided against it.

‘You should go with us,’ Aliya added gleefully. ‘We can help you.’

Geralt just stared at her in disbelief. ‘We’ll be fine,’ he said, finally, sounding mildly threatening.

She chuckled in response. ‘What are you better equipped to handle, Geralt… a few monsters in a picturesque forest or miles on a dusty road and the full military force of fucking Nilfgaard?’

‘That’s a false comparison, and you know it.’

‘So where do you think they’ll go next, hm? Not where they’ve been before.’

‘Yes, and for a good reason.’

‘Yes, because it makes no fucking sense.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I know what you meant.’ She turned away, noticing that both Jaskier and Lianna were staring at them, a bit unsettled. ‘And what about all the people and beasts that will get in our way, hm?’ she asked with a vicious smile. ‘Don’t you feel sorry for them?’

‘I see no monsters worth killing here.’

‘Then you’re not _that_ great at your job, are you?’

Lianna laughed nervously.

‘Or do you not mind the cost as long as you can reach the other side?’ Aliya waited for him to respond but when he didn’t, continued anyway. ‘I sure don’t.’

‘You’re wasting my time.’

‘Well… Dying is the worst form of time wasting.’

Geralt didn’t respond.

‘Admit I’m right.’ She kept pressing on. ‘Just do it.’

‘I wish you both the best of luck,’ he said, backing away and motioning Jaskier to follow.

***

‘Geralt, let’s at least… consider it.’

Geralt stopped, genuinely surprised that Jaskier was not discouraged.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Jaskier started again. ‘But there’s a good argument for it.’

‘I know what your _argument_ is.’ Geralt tilted his head, staring at Jaskier, his look nothing but patronizing.

‘You’re going to say they are either insanely stupid or dangerous, neither option promising.’ Geralt nodded, pleasantly surprised by the accuracy of Jaskier’s prediction. ‘And that if we go with them, we’ll end up ripped to pieces by a ghoul or some other corpse-eating joy of a creature… or a bunch of them… a whole flock, perhaps. And, ehm… then slowly devoured and defiled until even rats are too disgusted to feast on whatever remains of our broken bodies.’

‘Mhm.’ Geralt considered the description rather too florid but agreed with the sentiment. 

‘But what if…’ Jaskier raised his hands as if to stop Geralt from walking away. He kept thinking but struggled to come up with an angle. He looked troubled for a while and then finally gave up. ‘I mean… Gods, have you seen her? She is _gorgeous._ She is the kind of a woman ballads are about. Her hair looks like genuine strands of gold, and it _shimmers_ in the sunshine. Her eyes are _so_ deep blue. They’re like oceans, like a mountain river on a bright morning, the light dancing-’

‘Jaskier.’ Geralt broke his flow. ‘What the fuck?’ 

Jaskier sighed, frustrated, and looked away from him, thinking. ‘Aliya might be pissing you off,’ he started again. ‘But that doesn’t mean she’s wrong. We don’t know for sure.’

‘There are many reasons to be suspicious of Aliya.’

‘Like what?’ Jaskier wondered for a moment. ‘She’s a bit intense. Do you think she’s not human?’

‘That would be extremely unlikely. It’s the kind of bad luck even I don’t expect.’

‘Then why?’ 

‘Her plan is terrible.’

‘Right, sure, but… even… e _ven_ if this goes bad. You’d know what to do! _Geralt_ , you’d find a way out, always. You’d barge in with your silver sword, kill all that needs killing, the excellent professional that you are. How many drowners can you take and not even blink? Countless… countless drowners. The ghouls should be afraid of you, really. You’re the predator here, _obviously_. I can already see it! Dead bodies falling left and right, and you right there, triumphantly passing through, not even a bead of sweat on your brow. Well, maybe a little sweat… here and there.’

Jaskier smiled shyly, finding the imaginary scenario suspiciously endearing.

‘And then, of course,’ he continued, proudly, ‘you’d look like a bit of a mess after. But… not much we can do about that in the wild, I suppose! Unless there was a nice river somewhere. And then I’d… eh… I’d, _eh_ …’ Jaskier’s brain seemed to seize up for a moment.

Geralt just rolled his eyes, looking a bit overwhelmed. 

‘Oh, come on!’ Jaskier was not giving up, smiling with irresistible, nervous charm. ‘We both know the alternative isn’t that much safer. How bad can this go anyway?’

‘It can go pretty fucking bad,’ Geralt stated confidently and started walking away again.

‘Geralt, _please_. Pretty please? If things really are that desperate, I just want to…’ he stopped, not wanting to sound overdramatic. ‘I sincerely beg you. Do it… _for me_?’

***

‘And here I was thinking you don’t want us around.’ Aliya was gloating a bit too much. ‘What changed your mind?’

Geralt stared blankly at Jaskier who was walking ahead with Lianna, caught up in a conversation, gesticulating wildly.

‘Nothing,’ he said, sounding deeply resigned.

‘That’s not good,’ she responded with feigned concern. ‘It’s a bad idea to make decisions without a solid run through the reasoning, don’t you think?’

Geralt ignored her but that only encouraged her more.

‘Not really one for deep self-reflection, are you?’ she smiled. ‘There are good ways to deal with that. You should write down a list of questions, find a sorceress, get yourself a truth serum, go into an empty room, answer out loud and see if you’re surprised by what you hear.’

‘Overthinking is a disease.’

‘Thinking… is not that bad, though.’ She nodded to herself. ‘Otherwise, all you have is hindsight.’

Geralt felt like burying his head in his hands, tired, and was not looking forward to two more days of this.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a sigh, looking sincerely sad. ‘It is a misfortune. The wrong place at the wrong time, for sure.’

He shrugged his shoulders, not buying her sudden and weirdly disproportionate concern.

‘You seem reasonable enough. And you generally know what you’re doing. It’s a shame. It feels like a shame on some days, you know?’ She considered it and smiled. ‘You _do_ know, in fact. I bet your line of work comes with _some_ regrets. Or at least the same sense of foreboding.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I guess I’m talking about that feeling one gets when something horrible is about to happen. Often you can sense it coming long before it hits. It’s a vague, intuitive response of a kind, an instinct.’

She looked at him for a moment, a strange intensity in her eyes, then looked away again. Her explanation didn’t seem to help so she felt compelled to continue.

‘And you know you can still prevent it, but there’s this… weird sleepiness and indifference coming over you, as if it didn’t _really_ matter. Because you can’t be sure. And it’s almost like it’s happening to somebody else. And you just keep going ahead, almost despite yourself. You know but also don’t know. It’s weird.’

Geralt blinked a few times, and looked at her with slight concern.

‘I honestly would have given it a pass but they are _so_ determined, aren’t they?’ she continued and motioned towards Jaskier and Lianna. ‘The things we do for love.’

‘That is _not_ love.’ He shook his head, staring at them. ‘He’s just scared.’

‘I wasn’t talking about them.’

He looked at her, confused.

She suppressed a laugh. ‘He does sing _a lot_ about love, doesn’t he?’ She sounded oddly impressed. ‘It’s a bit surprising considering he specialises in _witchers_ and monsters. But sure, you look at this shallow bullshit…’ She pointed at Jaskier who was just _accidentally_ touching Lianna’s hair, as he pretended to remove a leaf from her shoulder. ‘And it’s obvious that’s not where he gets his inspiration from.’

‘You think his songs are deeper than that? It’s bloated nonsense, most of it.’

‘No, not really. He gets it. He just knows what appeals to people. If he spilled too much truth, they would turn away.’

‘Too much?’

‘Have you ever actually listened to the words?’

He considered it for a moment. ‘Fair enough,’ he stated, finally.

‘He feeds into that… general fantasy, but there’s an underlying tension there that feels very authentic. He knows his audience has some strong opinions about what love is _supposed to_ look like. The truth, which people tend not to like, is that it can hit us in the face and turn out _nothing_ like what we expected.’ She stared at Lianna, almost involuntarily. ‘Far from a neat package. Not a good topic for a song. And what do you do when _that_ happens? Ignoring it is an option, of course. Doesn’t fit the mould so it’s not it, is it? But ultimately, what matters more… being loved or being right? Especially if time is running short.’

‘Aliya… what’s your problem?’

‘Boredom, I guess.’

He was thrown off by that genuine-sounding response. ‘Really? What type of jaded bullshit is that?’

‘Your type of bullshit, I suppose. I just go with what you give me.’

He laughed, feeling a bit more comfortable around her for the first time.

As he looked up, he noticed something odd about Lianna. Her movements were becoming increasingly unstable. She lost her balance and Jaskier grabbed her before she fell, holding her up, surprised. He looked back at Geralt as if asking for help but before he managed to respond, Lianna was back on her feet, laughing it off. They kept walking. She was just lightly leaning on his shoulder, a bit uneasy, but he wrapped his hand around her waist, and she relaxed. 

Geralt stared at Aliya who was observing the situation, seemingly indifferent. She noticed the look. ‘She gets dizzy sometimes,’ she explained, casually, ‘nothing to worry about’.

He grunted, unconvinced.

‘We might need to take breaks. She needs her rest.’ She scratched her neck, looking slightly uncomfortable. ‘There are better days, and worse days. You’d be surprised how energetic she can be sometimes.’

‘Sure _._ ’

The path was beginning to narrow and there were more and more trees around them, the air gradually becoming humid, a light wind rustling the leaves. But the sun was still harsh. She looked up. ‘We’re past noon now, you noticed?’ She asked, something ominous in her voice, as if it was supposed to matter.

Geralt looked down and saw a short shadow by his feet, his own. Just before they walked into the forest and the ground became engulfed in the confusing dance of sun and shade as the leaves moved above them, he looked towards her and he could swear she cast no shadow. He looked up surprised. 

‘In the end, I am really glad you decided to go with us, you know?’ she said, smiling. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier wants to write a bittersweet ballad about true love. Geralt thinks he can make it better by adding a touch of gritty realism.

Nothing more than a glimmer of light, perhaps. It was not wise to assume anything prematurely. The next time he looked, the shadow was clearly there, as if mocking him. The sight should have calmed him down but didn’t. 

As the empty fields gave way to picturesque hills and valleys, with narrow rivers running along winding paths, their moods shifted. The grass was long, the trees in full bloom, and the shade of green fresh and highly saturated.

Geralt didn’t like any of it.

All throughout the day he watched Aliya’s every move. She didn’t seem concerned. Jaskier, in contrast, ended up throwing glances his way with increasing frequency. He would look up when talking to Lianna, or suddenly find himself walking by Geralt, then moving away. Finally, as they stopped to rest and eat, he settled on remaining within a safe, two-meter radius. Aliya promised to supply the food but then just happily chatted with Lianna, both lying in the grass at a fair distance, occasionally laughing. One would be forgiven for thinking they were traveling for pleasure.

‘What the fuck are we waiting for?’ Geralt asked as he sat by an old oak tree.

Although the question was rhetorical, he happened to direct it towards Jaskier, who was more than comfortable with their current situation. ‘Would it kill you to relax for a while?’ he asked, sounding more pleased than he wished to. Finally sitting down, his legs exhausted from walking, he was leaning against a convenient tall bump in the grass, closing his eyes and breathing in the fresh air. ‘There’s even a breeze,’ he whispered, smiling to himself, content. ‘I’m sorry, Geralt, I know you want to be miserable, but this is motherfucking idyllic.’

Geralt rolled his eyes.

‘Are you rolling your eyes at me?’

‘You’re not even looking.’

‘I don’t have to look to know,’ he responded with glee, smirking, half-surprised to be right, eyes still closed.

Geralt smiled back, not something Jaskier could have predicted or seen. ‘That thing you’re leaning on…’

‘What about it?’

‘Nothing,’ he sighed. ‘There’s a tree, right here.’ 

Jaskier stood up and came by to sit close to him, treating it as an invitation. Geralt didn’t protest. The afternoon was so calming, even he was starting to feel a bit less on edge. The leaves were rustling above them, and the movement of the branches slowly swinging in the wind was oddly hypnotic. 

Jaskier started strumming on his lute, trying to decide what to work on next. ‘I think I need a good love ballad. Some forbidden romance perhaps?’ He seemed enthusiastic about the idea.

‘Isn’t that a bit overdone?’ Geralt couldn’t stop himself, his enjoyment of their break was clearly increasing with every little jab at Jaskier. 

‘Everything has been done before. I just have to avoid the clichés,’ he stated confidently, totally not discouraged. 

‘So no tragic ending?’

‘And no happy ending either.’

‘That only leaves bittersweet.’

‘I suppose.’

‘What’s the obstacle?’

‘I don’t know. Social disapproval of some kind?’ Jaskier seemed unsure.

‘Hm _._ ’ Geralt gave it a thought. ‘She’s an elf and he’s human?’

‘No, I think I should leave elves alone.’ He looked straight at Geralt and smiled. ‘What if he’s a witcher?’

Geralt just grunted in response, noticeably sceptical.

‘Well, it only makes sense. I know quite a bit about witchers already.’

‘Do you?’ Geralt seemed amused by that. ‘And what about her?’

‘What _about_ her?’

‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘Nothing. She wants to be with him.’

‘But?’

‘But… it’s hard to get through to him. He is not exactly used to people showering him with care and attention.’ Jaskier seemed deep in thought for a minute. ‘There are some challenges there but… although he is a tough, obsessively self-sufficient loner, other people matter to him _so much._ Not that he would necessarily admit that. Ultimately, he just wants somebody who understands him, and values him for who he _truly_ is. You know, somebody who can break through that bullshit veneer of indifference. Isn’t that how witchers are?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ 

Jaskier just smiled, and continued, ignoring Geralt’s huffiness. ‘And she… she is sociable, very much unlike his reclusive self, has some, I don’t know.’ He went through a few ideas in his head before he lit up. ‘She’s _a princess_.’

Geralt grinned, clearly suppressing a laugh. ‘And why would _a princess_ want a witcher?’

‘Well, he’s very… lovable.’

‘A lovable witcher? I’m not sure if I’ve ever met one.’

‘I’m sure everyone has, at some point. They’re around.’

‘Right.’ Geralt’s eyes narrowed. ‘Awkward that.’ He shook his head with disapproval. ‘No heir to the throne.’

‘No, and her father is terrified. He hates witchers.’

‘Won’t work.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s bullshit.’

‘Because…’

‘A witcher won’t sacrifice his peace of mind for some royal nonsense. Witchers like a simple life. She grew up believing social rank is all there is. What is he worth to her? They _might_ spend one night together. He’s feeling lonely. She sees him as some… exotic oddity.’

‘What if she’s a bit unconventional? She doesn’t care for royal nonsense and appreciates he doesn’t either.’

‘Doesn’t she?’ Geralt seemed far from convinced.

‘She doesn’t. And she doesn’t care… I mean, she would be at least _a little_ impressed with him _as_ a witcher.’

‘Ah _._ ’

‘No, but… she would actually appreciate him as a person.’

Geralt grunted, looking slightly suspicious, and still very much amused. ‘He probably saved her life and she thinks that means something,’ he said, casually.

‘Well, wouldn’t it?’

‘It’s a part of the job.’

‘Oh, _is it_?’

Geralt smiled. He was enjoying getting on Jaskier’s nerves a bit too much. ‘That depends,’ he added finally.

‘I guess it does,’ Jaskier agreed, reluctantly. 

‘But it would still be stupid of them to go for it.’

‘And _why_ would that be?’

‘There’s a viable prince somewhere. He is familiar with all the crap she grew up with, her family would approve. She’s just creating needless drama for herself, asking for pointless heartbreak.’

‘Not a single creative bone in your body. It’s _a story_ , Geralt. Drama is the _point_.’

‘I don’t see it.’

‘It’s love.’

‘Hm… That excuse only works for a while.’

‘ _Bollocks_ … If you were writing ballads, they would end before they even started.’ He looked back at Geralt who just started calmly sharpening one of the short knives he kept in his belt. ‘Well, yes, of course, why am I surprised?’

Geralt was undeterred. He just looked up for a second, noting Aliya and Lianna were still sitting quite far away, focused entirely on each other, not a single glance their way.

‘The princess _,_ ' Geralt continued _,_ his voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘even at the _height_ of love, would keep one eye on all she sacrificed to get there. All these palaces. All that comfort. Her family’s love. The gold. The _admiration_ of common people. The blessed peace of mind.’ He pushed a sharpening stone across the edge of the dagger with every phrase. ‘There would be no great fights, just growing resentment, until it snaps, one day. Possibly over something trivial.’ He nodded, clearly pleased with both his conclusion to the story, and his sharpening job.

He weighed the knife in his hand. The blade was shining as it reflected the sunlight. He then cut through the grass, the movement was swift and efficient, a couple of wildflowers collapsed to the ground. He grunted, satisfied.

Jaskier looked strangely overwhelmed by that, his mouth gaping open. ‘I thought…’ he started, finally, ‘I thought we said no tragic ending.’

‘It’s not tragic. It’s normal. Bad decision-making does that. Maybe that’s the point of the story.’

‘No, that’s _not_ the point.’

‘Gut feelings are not better than long term strategies.’

‘But you can’t just ignore…’

‘Believe me, you can.’ The statement came out a bit more aggressive than intended, which surprised them both.

Jaskier just stared at him, looking almost ready to give up. And yet, he couldn’t let go. ‘What if that’s what she wants?’ he asked, sounding surprisingly invested. ‘What if that’s _exactly_ what she wants. I mean all of it. You are…’ He stopped and looked confused for a second. ‘You are… assuming so many things about her. Maybe it’s not a sacrifice for her at all. Perhaps, she is proud to be where she is. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t feel that way at the royal bloody court. Maybe this is _exactly_ who she is.’

‘She might think so. But that’s only because she has no clue. She grew up with her ass sat comfortably on a golden fucking pillow. He lived in the shit she’s now walking into his whole life.’ Although his words seemed heated, Geralt’s tone was matter-of-fact to the point of being unsettling. ‘It’s not easy being hated, sneered at and turned away,’ he added a moment later, somehow still sounding completely unbothered. ‘Not if you’re used to… applause. Not if you don’t have to.’

‘But…’ Jaskier was a bit uneasy but kept going. ‘They can still be happy. They don’t have to care what others think.’

‘Sure, they don’t _have to_ care. Not until some random villagers shower them with stones.’

Jaskier looked away, frustrated. ‘But, Geralt, isn’t that exactly what makes it good? The story, I mean.’ He was annoyed with himself for feeling like he needed to clarify. ‘That is the point. She risks it all out of love. Because fuck these people. Because _we_ are not like _them_. And they _don’t_ dictate what _we_ do. Your normal princesses can be happy with a prince but that’s not special, is it? By sticking to the rules, they are no better… they are contributing…’

‘I think you’re starting to mix your metaphors.’

‘I mean, of course, a normal princess doesn’t have to fight for it as much. She doesn’t have to sacrifice… her comforts. She’s going with what’s expected. It’s bloody boring and simple. The point is _our_ princess pays a high price but it’s worth it precisely because she cares so much more. It’s worth so much for her, everything else pales in comparison. And if it fails, so what? It was the right thing to do. Witchers do not deserve to suffer for who they are. _Both of them_ should fight for what they want. Otherwise nothing will ever change. It might be wonderful, the best thing that happened to them, even _if_ it just lasts for a while.’ He noticed Geralt remained unimpressed. ‘It’s at least worth a try,’ he added, faintly.

‘Everyone suffers for who they are. That’s just life,’ Geralt stated simply. It was clear he was getting bored with the conversation. He looked up and lost his focus.

Jaskier followed his line of sight, and saw Aliya looking back at them. ‘Why do you keep staring at her?’ he asked, sounding hurt.

Geralt ignored him and Jaskier waved his hand in front of his face, annoyed. ‘Oh, come on _,_ Geralt! I asked you… Isn’t it at least worth a try?’

‘Not really.’

‘Oh _,_ and why is that?’

‘It’s short-sighted, selfish and greedy.’

‘Is that so?’

‘I don’t see why _some_ frustrating bards are so set on romanticising impulsive behaviours.’

‘Well, life is both too long and too short _to never_ …’ He looked back at Geralt, suddenly distracted by what he said. ‘No, they are not. They romanticise freedom and love.’

‘If that’s what you call it.’

‘Fuck, it’s like trying to explain colours to a blind person.’ Jaskier took a deep breath. ‘You _must_ know what I mean.’

‘I know what you mean.’

They went silent for a moment. Jaskier looked like he was desperate to say something but hesitated. ‘Then…’ he said, finally, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

‘The _princess_ should wait. It will pass… like a bad cold.’

‘Oh, fuck you, Geralt.’

Geralt smiled to himself, feeling a tiny bit bad for Jaskier. ‘Look there.’

‘What?’ Jaskier was confused for a moment. 

Geralt looked ahead, motioning towards Aliya and Lianna who were deep in conversation, looking perfectly harmless. ‘That’s where the _real_ story is. As a specialist in narratives…’ He turned to Jaskier, rapidly changing the topic. ‘You should understand… if we die because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, it would make for a very sad and disappointing story. How hard can it be…’ He stopped, looking slightly disoriented for a moment, and opened his mouth, ready to justify what he just said.

‘Ehm… Geralt? You’re getting a little carried away here,’ he smiled, chuckling slightly. ‘Why do you keep nagging me about this anyway? Nothing terrible has happened yet. On the contrary… Let’s admit it. Ever since we joined them, everything improved. Also, you said yes to this! And, may I remind you, you don’t exactly _struggle_ with the idea of saying no to me.’

‘If only there was a quick and efficient way to keep this under control,’ he sighed, observing Lianna leaving Aliya in the grass and walking towards her bag. ‘Anything we could do to stop you behaving like a stray cat in the spring.’

‘Anything _we_ could do?’ Jaskier found that amusing. ‘Do you know what you’re suggesting?’

‘I was thinking castration. What was your idea?’

‘Ah, that’s what you meant. _Well_ … that’s probably for the best, Geralt. Because I do believe there is a good reason “quick” and “efficient” are not two words which feature in passionate love ballads very often.’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘And you _dare_ to call _me_ frustrating.’

‘What’s going on?’ Lianna asked cheerfully as she approached them, seeing their conversation was getting livelier.

‘Nothing. Don’t pay attention to Geralt. Sometimes he likes to stab me and then really twist the knife. It gives his life meaning. I tend to indulge him.’

‘Jaskier was just explaining why he thinks the best sex is slow and inefficient.’ Geralt’s face lit up with a light grin.

‘You know…’ Jaskier was clearly annoyed now. ‘It doesn’t really cost me _that_ much to put up with his nonsense. And it genuinely makes him happy.’

‘ _Slow is good_!’ Lianna exclaimed, enthusiastically.

Geralt noticed Aliya suddenly started laughing. She was sitting too far away to be able to hear them talk. He looked even more worried from then on.

***

After what felt like hours of doing nothing, Aliya left to hunt. She brought back a bunch of dead rabbits and dropped them on the ground, unceremoniously. Geralt picked one up and took a close look. The neck was snapped with surgical precision. ‘How long were you gone?’ he asked, sounding a bit suspicious.

‘Hm?’ She seemed surprised by the question. ‘Not long. Got lucky, I guess.’

‘Is it the kind of luck that involves all rabbits within one-mile radius hopping right to your feet hoping to die?’

‘I can see Jaskier’s point. You really do nag.’

Jaskier looked up, surprised. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘Aliya is an excellent hunter,’ Lianna stated with pride. ‘I once saw her kill a bear with her bare hands.’

‘You don’t say.’ Geralt sounded interested.

‘Lianna…’ Aliya shook her head. ‘You’re not helping.’

Lianna pouted, sitting comfortably next to the rabbits, staring at them with an odd intensity.

‘What else can you do, Aliya?’ Geralt asked, sounding perfectly casual. He sat next to Jaskier on a fallen tree trunk across from her and leaned back slightly.

‘Anything specific you’re interested in?’ She looked at him, holding the stare just a second too long. He didn’t respond. ‘I _can_ make us a decent meal.’ She took off her shoulder bag and opened it to reveal a bunch of long, green leaves inside. ‘Would that do?’

‘Wild garlic?’ he asked, although the smell made it obvious.

‘Just because we are in the wilderness doesn’t mean we should eat like animals.’ She looked around and found a nice, thick, broken branch of just the appropriate size. She kept kicking it towards them until it stopped near their feet. ‘Anyone eager to gut the rabbits?’ she asked, sounding surprisingly enthusiastic.

Jaskier moved around awkwardly, looking increasingly uncomfortable. Aliya stared at him for a second, amused. She pulled a short knife from a belt around her boot and snatched one of the dead animals. She grabbed it by its broken neck, the head hanging at an unfortunate angle.

Lianna suddenly stood up as if burned. ‘I’m sorry _,_ ’ she started, sounding breathy. ‘I think I’ll go for a little walk.’

Aliya just nodded.

‘Do you want me to go with you?’ Jaskier asked, hopeful for a few good reasons.

‘No, I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t mind a moment alone.’ Lianna tried to smile but her expression was far from convincing.

She moved away fast, not at all like somebody who is going on a casual walk.

‘Sure, right,’ Jaskier responded, barely aware of what he said, his eyes following Aliya as she grabbed the rabbit’s front legs and swiftly cut across its stomach.

Her whole hand disappeared inside the wound, the skin stretched under pressure. She tugged and pulled until the guts fell to the ground with a splash.

Jaskier swallowed loudly. 

‘Not much blood in a rabbit. Not nearly as dramatic as some other animals,’ she stated as if it needed clarification.

‘I can see that.’ Jaskier stared at the gray, dry guts, his stomach turning.

She stretched the rabbit on the branch and cut its back legs off with a single blow. They fell into the grass. She then turned to the head and cut deep into the neck. The knife stopped on the spine, and she pressed harder. The crunching sound made Jaskier’s skin crawl. The knife was not doing the job so she grabbed the head and ripped it off with her hand. The skin tore surprisingly easily, a part of the spine broke off, hanging out of the tiny head, which she dropped.

It rolled and stopped by Jaskier’s foot. Little, shiny, motionless eyes were gaping towards the sky.

‘Fuck, _Geralt_.’ He grabbed Geralt’s arm and squeezed it tightly, gagging a little.

She looked up, fast, staring directly at Jaskier, eyes wide. She tilted her head, intrigued. ‘What is it exactly that you want him to shield you from?’ Her voice was frosty and controlled, some genuine curiosity underneath the cold sneer.

Jaskier looked back at her, hurt and surprised by that sudden predatory shift in her behaviour.

She grasped the knife and raised it towards him. Geralt moved quickly, and pushed Jaskier to the side but she just held it up calmly, weighing it in her hand, mirroring Geralt’s movements from before, focused and deliberate. ‘I still have to pull the skin off… but this can’t cut for shit.’ She unceremoniously dropped the knife, and grabbed the disfigured rabbit, remaining perfectly calm.

Geralt stood up, dragging Jaskier up with him and looking at her with anger. ‘Suddenly,’ he sounded controlled but there was plenty boiling underneath, ‘we’re also eager to go for a walk.’

‘Sure.’ She rubbed the blood off her hands with a cloth. ‘I’ll just finish up here. Although…’ She pretended to suddenly realise something. ‘I might need something sharp.’

She walked all the way up to Geralt, ignoring Jaskier’s worried looks, casually pushed her hand behind his belt without ever looking down and grabbed the knife he sharpened by the oak tree. He remained completely motionless. She pulled the knife up and looked at it closely.

‘Nice job, Geralt. Really well done.’ She nodded, looked at his face and laughed. ‘Why do you seem so offended? I thought you’d like this. Isn’t rubbing people’s faces into the ugliness and brutality of the world something you enjoy? Whatever it takes to keep them safe, I suppose. And everything, indeed, is _quite_ disgusting if you dig deep under the surface.’ Using the sharp knife, she cut into the rabbit with ease and tore its skin off in one, fluid move. ‘That’s exactly why _some_ decide against being overly inquisitive. This…’ she lifted up the skinless, pink body of the rabbit, its bare muscles wet with blood, ‘was cute, fluffy and cuddly once. Why not keep it that way?’ She smiled.

***

It was getting late. As the sun started to set, Geralt was even more focused and alert than usual, listening for every rustle, looking around with unease. As they walked, the lush forest was replaced with long stretches of burnt ground. The areas around the desolate villages had an intensely sinister feel, and light was scarce.

Regardless, they were lucky. It was almost the full moon and even Jaskier could see the shapes of the trees and the bright path ahead of them relatively clearly. The shapes of scorched ruins stood out against the dark blue sky. Geralt felt like he had a grasp on the situation until heavy fog started descending, reducing visibility, and making him nervous. Jaskier, despite being more than used to his friend’s cautious behaviour, felt Geralt’s eyes on his back too often even for his own comfort.

Suddenly, he noticed a shimmer of light between the trees, some movement he couldn’t identify. He walked a bit closer.

‘Jaskier, stay on the bloody path.’

‘I’m still on it.’

‘Come here!’ Geralt sounded nearly threatening, but Jaskier was slow to respond. ‘Right, the fuck, now.’

And so he did, never _really_ needing an excuse to walk by Geralt. Aliya and Lianna were strolling ahead of them, not looking worried at all, paying little to no attention to the barren landscape. 

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tense.’ Jaskier stared at Geralt whose eyes were fanatically following every movement in the shadows around them. 

Geralt’s medallion was vibrating and tugging like mad, not helpful at all. It only added to his nervousness without telling him more than he already knew. ‘Can’t you hear it?’ he asked, annoyed.

‘I can’t hear anything.’ Jaskier shook his head.

‘ _Exactly_.’ Geralt felt like he made the point and walked along in silence again.

‘I thought I saw something,’ Jaskier started, a little unsettled.

‘I know. They’re everywhere.’

‘What is?’

‘What do you think _?_ ’ He realised he was being touchy and tried his best to calm down. ‘We walked through swamps, next to dug up graves, along wood paths by villages with barely any survivors. They just keep gathering around us. They’re like fucking wasps circling something sweet, but… nothing.’

‘I guess we’re lucky, then.’ Jaskier somehow managed to sound both relieved and scared.

‘It’s not luck.’

‘Then why?’

‘My guess would be… they are staying away at a safe distance, afraid.’

‘Afraid?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Of what? Of _us_?’

‘Of something worse than them.’

Jaskier stared at Aliya and Lianna for a moment and then back at Geralt with pure disbelief. ‘No,’ he sounded nearly insulted. ‘No way. You can’t be serious.’ He smiled, expecting Geralt to lighten up but he remained watchful and determined. ‘She was just being silly, winding us up. And she was _quite_ effective, I admit. But that’s all.’

‘Tell _that_ to all these ghouls and graveirs.’ Geralt could see glimmers of their gray-blue skin flashing in the moonlight as they moved away into the dark. 

‘There must be another explanation.’ Jaskier motioned towards the two women. ‘I mean _,_ look at them.’

‘ _I am_. All the time.’ Geralt obviously did not take Aliya’s advice, using every moment, and every bit of information to try to understand who or what they were.

‘I know. I noticed.’ He sighed. ‘I know what you mean. However, the dinner _was_ delicious,’ he added as if it was relevant.

‘Food? That’s what you focus on? How are _you_ so fucking calm right now?’

‘She seems calm.’ Jaskier pointed at Aliya. ‘And by your logic, she knows something we don’t.’

Geralt looked at him, a bit surprised by the cold rationality of that response.

Jaskier kept looking ahead, slightly intrigued, determined not to pay attention to the movement in the bushes. He looked at Roach who was slowly walking by Geralt and noticed she was surprisingly calm too. ‘Also,’ he started again. ‘I know you would never let… And I really appreciate… I feel safe because…’ He seemed incapable of finishing a sentence and his voice was already taking on tender tones.

Geralt’s patience was waning. ‘For fuck’s sake, Jaskier, not now.’

‘Are you angry with me for talking you into this?’

‘No, I’m not angry with you.’ He raised his voice, clearly frustrated.

‘You do realise you’re shouting, right?’

‘Neither of us predicted this. It’s not your fault.’

‘I am sorry, though.’

‘Then don’t be. It’s my job to notice these things.’

Jaskier smiled, relieved. He held out his hand to touch Geralt’s shoulder.

‘Don’t do that _._ ’ As he said it, he noticed a ghoul emerging from the fog right ahead of them and pushed Jaskier behind him, an instinctive, borderline involuntary movement.

His silver sword glimmered in the moonlight as he launched ahead. The ghoul was busy, both its claws and teeth buried into a rotting corpse it must have dragged from one of the graves further towards the village. Suddenly it heard Geralt approaching and raised its head, red eyes flashing in the dark. As it looked around, it noticed Aliya. It stayed perfectly still for a moment, then let out a panicked yelp and ran away.

‘For all that is fucking holy, Geralt,’ Aliya shouted at him from a distance, ‘stop this constant drama. It’s driving me mad. We are all perfectly safe.’ She rubbed her temples and let out a sigh. ‘Lianna is getting tired. Maybe let’s just call it a night?’

***

Jaskier was lounging by the fire and kept trying out different chords, writing down some lines, then crossing them out again. Geralt walked by slowly and sat next to him, quite impressed he still had the energy for work. He made himself comfortable, leaning on a rock behind them, resting.

Jaskier smiled at him, although Geralt’s eyes were closed by that point, and started to play.

Her father’s crown is but a shackle  
It binds, and traps and harms  
Not a doubt in her ardent mind  
As she leaves them all behind

Her golden robe unwinds with time  
Shared hardships take their toll  
They dare to call him monstrous  
She sees beyond it all

He shields her from the stones  
The hate-filled rain of spite  
Oh, how could others understand  
These ties that bind them tight

The cries of what is wrong or right  
They all just sound the same  
The glory of their righteous crime  
Is what has kept them sane

Through winds and storms  
They kept the world at bay  
Together they’ve felt everything  
But for regret and shame

He stopped, and realised Geralt was staring at him intensely.

‘That last part…’

‘What about it?’ His voice was a strange mix of embarrassment and hope.

‘It didn’t rhyme.’

Jaskier remained speechless for a short while. ‘I’m still working on it,’ he said finally, sounding hurt. ‘Any other comments?’

‘It’s good.’

‘ _Really_?’

‘Mhm.’ He nodded, relaxed. He should be worried about Aliya, the dangers ahead of them, and the creatures lurking in the shadows but couldn’t somehow. There was a weird calm coming over him, a tranquil sleepiness which felt almost like contentment.

Jaskier stared at him for a second, oddly moved by his short review. ‘Well, of course it’s bloody good. I wrote it,’ he said with clear confidence and Geralt smiled in response.

‘That witcher… in your song,’ Geralt started, casually.

‘What about him?’

‘How did he know she was ready to step into that mess?’

‘I guess _he asked_.’

Geralt supressed a laugh, and Jaskier just leaned back on the rock, mildly annoyed and yet much happier than before.

The night seemed pleasant now, and the darkness didn’t bother them anymore. Wind was moving calmly through the leaves and everything sounded normal, from an occasional call of an owl to bats fluttering above their heads.

‘You know, if you did fall for a princess, I would write a song about you two, and everybody would cheer you on. People would be thrilled by the romance, and the sacrifice. The adventure… and the rebellion. I would sing… and they would love you.’

‘No.’ Geralt smiled and just sat there in silence for what, to Jaskier, felt like a long time. ‘You’d just get jealous.’

Jaskier’s first instinct was to disagree but then he thought about it, raised his brows slightly, nodded to himself, and didn’t say a thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The full moon reveals hidden truths. Geralt always thought it was vampires rather than witchers who cannot see themselves in mirrors, but he was wrong. 

Geralt remembered talking to Jaskier, and the calming sound of the lute in the background. He could recall staring into the campfire, the flames dancing slowly, the glow of burning wood growing more vivid, fading, and reigniting again in a steady rhythm. 

Lianna was already lying down, tired. Her face looked even paler than when they met. She smiled at him but seemed sad. It felt like he was missing something. He could swear her dress was stained with blood. But maybe it was just a reflection of the flickering flames on the fabric as she held out her hands to warm up. 

He was feeling extremely sleepy, his head drooping, unusual. The moon looked vivid and close, just a thin shadow covering its edge. The clouds were swimming through the sky, heavy, dark outlines cutting off the light, then moving out of its way.

Jaskier was busy writing still, the sound of his quill scratching the parchment growing steadily louder in Geralt’s ears. The stone felt cold behind his head. Aliya was leaning towards Lianna, hands running up her dress, head buried in her neck. 

Then Lianna said something, but he couldn’t hear. There was a surprised gasp, a whisper, some movement in the grass.

And that was it. His last memory before he woke up. 

He was lying by the extinguished campfire, a perfectly made up nest of blankets and animal skins underneath him. Jaskier was just a few inches away, lying on his side, fast asleep, breathing calmly. Lianna was right beside him. Her arm was leaning on Jaskier’s waist, hand hanging in the air. Her skin was like glass, a net of blue veins underneath, nails thick and long, her other hand buried in Jaskier’s hair, lightly twitching. Geralt’s old blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. 

There was a pleasant smell in the air, homely. Someone was cooking. 

‘She’s fucking with our heads,’ Geralt concluded out loud.

Jaskier turned on his back, annoyed, barely conscious, Lianna’s hand slipped onto his stomach as he moved. It woke her up. She stretched like a cat and yawned. 

‘Geralt,’ he started, sounding sleepy, sulking a bit. Then, suddenly, he identified the direction Geralt’s voice came from and opened his eyes, instantly awake. ‘What _the_ …’ He blinked a few times, staring at Geralt right next to him, confused. 

‘Lianna, can you give us a moment?’ Geralt sat up, motioning her to go.

Jaskier just stared at him even more intensely. Lianna looked at the two of them, shrugged her shoulders and walked away. 

‘Do you remember what happened last night?’ Geralt’s voice was serious and unassuming. He waited for an answer. In vain. ‘Don’t overthink this… yes or no?’

‘No…’ Jaskier cleared his throat. ‘I don’t.’

‘Hm.’ Geralt was deep in thought for a moment. ‘Do you feel any different?’

Jaskier seemed dumbfounded by the question, opened his mouth but didn’t say a thing.

‘Right.’ Geralt didn’t seem surprised. ‘Up… get up.’

Jaskier did and Geralt followed. They stood dangerously close to each other. Geralt looked at him attentively, as if searching for something, his eyes scrutinizing every part of him. He was worried but the sentiment was barely showing on his face. He grunted, frustrated. Finally, he held out his hand and gently pushed Jaskier’s chin up. 

Jaskier’s eyes instantly grew wider. 

‘I’m trying to understand what’s going on here,’ Geralt said, offhand, focused, paying no attention to Jaskier’s nervous looks.

Jaskier was blushing slightly, his breath growing uneven. ‘I thought you didn’t care to…’ he started, his voice turning warmer and softer. 

Geralt didn’t listen. He pushed on Jaskier’s cheek, turning his head to the side to look at his neck, meeting no resistance. He then checked the other side, quickly ran his fingers up his jugular, Jaskier’s heart racing. He moved away slightly, grabbed Jaskier’s wrists, turned them around, checked the skin up to the forearm, nothing. 

That was a relief. He considered the task done, but didn’t let go quite yet. Something in his look shifted for a second, then returned to normal. Jaskier, once again, appeared as an odd mix of confusion and too many feelings to grasp or describe, clearly waiting for something. 

‘Did you notice any bites on Lianna? Any blood stains?’ Geralt asked, letting go of Jaskier’s hands. 

Jaskier seemed surprised for a moment, then blinked hard, immediately upset. He looked away from Geralt, and took a deep breath to calm himself down. ‘Why did you…’ he started, frustrated. ‘You could have just…’ 

Geralt sighed. ‘It’s fine. You’re fine. You can go. Just tell me if you notice anything suspicious.’ 

***

Leaving confused Jaskier behind, Geralt stormed towards Aliya. 

She set up a fresh campfire, and was busy cutting up herbs. Her hair was messy. There was some dried blood on her forearms and more smeared on her face. 

‘ _What did you do_?’

‘Good morning, Geralt.’ She beamed, then sighed, and used a cloth to wipe her forehead, sweaty from leaning over the pot where the stew was boiling over the fire. ‘Which part are you referring to?’ 

He motioned towards Jaskier and Lianna, despite also asking for himself.

‘Oh, that! _Well_ … It felt necessary. I needed us well rested for tonight.’ She stirred the food in the pot again, adding some salt. ‘Jaskier, poor thing, was exhausted. If I didn’t interfere he probably would have stress-written himself to death. Lianna always benefits from good quality sleep. And you, I never thought I’d say this, were thinking too much.’

‘Bullshit. You really want me to believe that’s all there was to it?’

‘I guess you’ll never know,’ she smiled, viciously. ‘And a few extra hours can’t harm you.’ 

‘It’s the middle of the day.’

‘Are we in a hurry all of a sudden?’ She kept stirring the stew, calmly. ‘Are you feeling better?’

Geralt grunted, annoyed, because, strictly physically speaking, he really did. He couldn’t help but notice Roach looked unusually spoiled, freshly fed and pampered, her coat shiny and brushed. Aliya must have been busy since the morning. 

She noticed him staring, and smiled. ‘Good.’ She seemed satisfied. ‘It’s not long until we can eat.’

Geralt looked behind her and saw a little skeleton, a lamb, stripped clean, a fluffy head lying a few meters away.

‘I gathered some mint,’ she added as if her choice of meat needed an explanation.

‘Are you planning to kill us?’

Aliya looked up at him, and laughed, surprisingly gleeful all of a sudden. Then she gave it a thought. ‘ _Should I_?’ She sounded both outraged and intrigued by the suggestion.

‘I asked a simple question.’

‘Gods, this really is stressful for you, isn’t it?’ She stared at him for a moment, surprised. ‘I’m just trying to make this nicer for everybody. Lianna wanted company so… here we are. It’s full moon tonight and she’s very excited for it. We’re celebrating. She loves lamb. It’s all going well, don’t worry.’

‘Are you planning to kill her?’

‘What I’m doing with Lianna is none of your business.’ Aliya was getting a bit annoyed now. ‘Do you want me to start commenting on what you do with Jaskier?’

‘You already do.’

‘Fair point. That’s fair.’ She nodded. 

‘You are not really family, are you?’

‘What do you mean by _really_ a family? We’re not related, no. There’s not really a way for us to get married. It’s just easier to travel this way. We’re definitely not strangers and I wouldn’t call us just friends. I think family fits just fine.’

‘You’re obviously not human.’ She just smiled in response. ‘And you don’t even care to hide it, despite clearly being able to. Somehow, I don’t worry you at all.’ 

‘Not every witcher I’ve met gave me the courtesy of having his greatest weakness displayed at all times, wearing fancy clothes, singing, and wanting all the attention.’ 

‘Are you threatening Jaskier?’

‘Since we’re speaking about obvious things… it’s pretty clear you want all his pain to yourself. It’s a bit greedy, possessive, even. So, no. I think I’m fine. As long as you need him I don’t have to worry about… possibly having to reattach my head in the near future… or digging a grave to hibernate.’ She chuckled as if the idea was ridiculous although they both knew it wasn’t. 

‘I’m not sure if _need_ is the word.’ 

‘You are a terrible hypocrite, Geralt.’

‘Am I?’

‘Well, just to start… You pretend not to play social games but you have Jaskier singing songs about your brave deeds. That way, you can have your cake and eat it, too. You mildly disapprove of his activities, stay officially indifferent to what people think, and in the meantime he does the job. And a necessary one too. There’s a pattern there, I’m sure.’

‘He loves what he does. And I’m definitely not forcing him to follow me.’ Geralt was annoyed with himself for justifying his actions to her. ‘I’ve saved his life many times,’ he added finally.

‘Is there an _alternative_ to that approach?’ She blinked a few times, as if she was trying to imagine one. ‘Would he even be in trouble if he wasn’t constantly fighting for your attention?’ 

‘What?’

‘You do have an interesting thing going there,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’m not judging. I usually have a human too. They make great pets. It’s just a shame they don’t live so long. And they’re so fragile too. It’s a constant bother, worrying they might damage themselves, or others might hurt them… seeing them age. That’s the part I hate the most, actually. Slow deterioration. I killed my previous one in her prime. Makes better memories.’

‘I doubt that,’ Geralt seemed confident.

She chuckled. ‘I always wanted something that could last.’ Her eyes softened in a weird bout of nostalgia. ‘But, who knew! It turns out there’s nothing scarier than permanence,’ she laughed, nervously.

‘Nothing is permanent, not even you.’

She sneered. ‘For someone who knows that, you’re wasting a lot of time pushing him away.’

‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, Aliya. He’s neither a pet nor food to me. That’s definitely not how I see him.’

‘No, it’s not. Sometimes it seems like you don’t see him at all.’ 

Geralt blinked a few times. ‘A vampire, still covered in blood, wants to teach me how to be kinder to somebody?’ He shook his head. ‘I am not torturing him. We are clearly torturing each other.’ 

She laughed. ‘Lianna, her time is, of course, limited. But for now… she’s getting my full attention and anything she wants. You won’t catch me pretending like I don’t give a fuck. At least not yet. We’ll see how she does tonight. It would be a shame to lose her. I find her exceptionally enjoyable.’ She looked towards their little campsite where Lianna and Jaskier were sitting together. Her smile could easily pass for affectionate. For a moment she seemed deep in thought. ‘I know how much I’m hurting mine,’ she said, finally. ‘Do you know how much you’re hurting yours?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Aliya continued, ignoring his surprised look, ‘I can see the appeal. You pull that rope with all your might and yet it doesn’t break. Every day you can keep punishing him for caring about you. He just keeps taking it. Flattering, I know. Especially since it really gets under his skin sometimes, even when he acts like it doesn’t. Not to mention… hurt feelings tend to accumulate over time. This, whatever this is exactly, is getting a tiny bit worse for him every day.’ 

She was observing Geralt very closely. 

‘In the meantime,’ she continued, cheerfully, ‘you can bask in the warm glow of his affection, while pushing it away like you’re disgusted by it. You reap all the benefits… while staying clean of any unwanted emotions.’ She smiled seeing she finally managed to get under his skin. ‘I’d call that cruel. I just bite through their throats at the end. And you… you’re going at it really slowly. You starve him… looking straight into his puppy dog eyes as they water.’ She was clearly enjoying his slightly shocked face expression. ‘Hm. No mercy.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And yet… you care so much, don’t you?’

Geralt opened his mouth to say something but she didn’t let him.

‘Well, Geralt. _You do you_. The rules are simple. You leave me alone, I leave him alone.’ She turned towards the boiling pot with interest. ‘Oh, look at that! Our food is ready.’

***

‘Geralt? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Ah, so that’s what nothing looks like. Right. I was confused. Moody, tense brows, narrow eyes, even more brooding silence…’ Jaskier kept speeding up to catch up with Geralt who was walking faster now. ‘Come on, Geralt! It’s never good news when you cut me off like that.’

‘I’m _not_ …’ Geralt heard the anger rising in his voice, and stopped himself. He stared at Jaskier for a moment. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know.’

‘Nothing worrying about a statement like that… from a professional monster killer.’

‘It’s nothing for _you_ to worry about,’ he burst out and then looked at Jaskier, who was clearly hurt by his words. He took a deep breath. ‘As a professional monster killer, you learn,’ he hesitated for a moment, ‘that some monsters are simply too strong. Some lived for so long and accumulated so much power, there is nothing… Hoping you can get away, hoping you can defeat them… is just being naive.’

‘Well, that doesn’t sound good.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’ Geralt turned to Jaskier and realised that he already might have said too much. ‘There _is_ … It’s not…’ He actually had issues talking to him now. ‘Fuck.’ He rubbed his temples, frustrated. 

‘What?’

‘Lies with a grain of truth. They are the worst. They get in your head.’

‘I suppose-’

‘Listen.’ He was fully focused on Jaskier now. ‘No matter what happens, I will do my best. I will do anything I possibly can to keep you in one piece. Is that good enough?’ 

‘Geralt…’ He looked more and more worried. 

Geralt stopped and grabbed Jaskier’s shoulders. ‘Do I treat you like shit?’

Jaskier just stared back, surprised.

‘Well, do I?’ He didn’t wait long, knowing there would be no answer. ‘You are a friend and not a punching bag. You know that, right?’

‘Geralt, you are really scaring me now.’

‘Right?’

‘Of course I do. You’re _obsessed_ with me. You just… struggle to express that sometimes.’ 

‘Yes,’ he said while staring at Aliya walking ahead of them, slightly distracted. ‘That’s _exactly_ right... good.’ 

***

Geralt was awaiting the sunset with apprehension. His mind was filled with many disturbing theories about what Aliya’s full moon celebrations might entail. It was a surprisingly tranquil day otherwise, pleasant even. Lianna and Jaskier were getting on exceptionally well and Aliya was unusually warm and pleasant, taking care of them with a borderline motherly devotion.

The weather shifted. Ever since they woke up there had been heavy clouds above them, light diffused. But at night, the sky was clear again, and the air was warm and humid. 

Finally, as they prepared another place to stay for the night, Aliya walked away from the campsite and into the dark. Geralt followed, ready for a confrontation. She dressed up for the occasion, red silk wrapped around her, the fabric falling in soft folds, impractical, not something he ever imagined she’d wear. 

After a while he realised they were walking in circles. There was something ghostly about her figure permanently ahead of him, moving effortlessly in the moonlight. She stopped abruptly, motionless, listening. As he walked towards her, she waved her hand around, annoyed about the noise he was making. He stopped, stayed silent and looked as she greedily absorbed their environment with all of her senses, focused, aware of every single living thing around them, sensitive to every sound and movement. 

‘Oh, it’s time…’ Her head popped up, pupils widened. ‘Can you hear that?’ she asked, her eyes piercing through darkness with ease, the moon hanging dramatically over their heads. 

All Geralt could hear were leaves moving with the wind and branches cracking softy.

‘Really?’ She sounded genuinely surprised. ‘You’re as helpless as a human. Take your potion, and let’s go for a hunt.’

‘A hunt?’

‘Yes, a hunt of a kind.’

Geralt was highly skeptical. ‘And why would I trust you?’

‘Why would you need to? You have your silver sword. So pretty it’s worth carrying around even if it doesn’t really do anything.’ 

Geralt grunted angrily, grabbed one of the potions and tipped the vial into his mouth. He felt uncomfortable with her eyes relentlessly focused on him as the poison took its effects. When the process ended, she moved closer and ran her fingertips over the ghostly white skin of his cheek. 

She stared into his wide pupils with clear fascination. She was just curious, interested in the effects more so than him. It took all his self-control to simply let her do that. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally. ‘I’ve never seen a witcher go through this. And when they attack me, I have no time to take a good look.’ She just stared on, tracing the blue veins on his face. ‘Dead witchers are just sad to see. So few of you left. It feels wrong. Nothing enjoyable about slaughtering an endangered species.’ She pushed his hair away and stared at his neck for a moment, seeing his pulse raising ever so slightly. ‘Don’t worry. I find the taste of black blood really disgusting.’

Geralt just looked away. She smiled and moved aside so fast it was nearly imperceptible. 

She walked ahead, her steps fast and light. They walked in silence for a few minutes until she stopped and started listening again. He could hear the sounds too. Some whispers and two beating hearts ahead of them, two figures behind the branches. In the middle of a little meadow, behind a lonely tree, there was Jaskier and Lianna talking in low voices. 

‘That’s your hunt?’ 

‘This forest is brimming with prey. So many options… but the two of them are, undoubtedly, the most _attractive_ choice.’ She looked excited, observing them from a distance.

Lianna was wearing a blue dress. The fabric was nearly transparent, her skin oddly radiant. There was a scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair was rolling down her back and shoulders. It reflected the light as she nodded her head, listening to Jaskier. 

‘Their eyes really are useless.’ Aliya seemed amused. ‘They can barely see each other. Let’s go closer.’

Geralt tried to grab her shoulder but she was fast and ahead of him before he began to move. She stopped a fair distance away still, but close enough that her eyes could see them clearly. He followed. The two voices went quiet. 

‘They’re too far away to hear us, don’t worry,’ she responded before he was able to say anything. ‘Oh, look at him go,’ she whispered into the darkness. 

Jaskier moved towards Lianna and pushed her hair away from her face. He leaned down to kiss her, careful as if worried he might hurt her, grabbing her waist lightly, pulling her close.

‘I…’ Geralt started, failing to hide his growing nervousness. ‘I never told him she’s with you. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t mean to…’

‘Oh?’ She seemed surprised. ‘That’s a crucial bit of information you’ve chosen to withhold from him. Any particular reason?’

Geralt didn’t feel like responding. He was running through many likely, all equally disastrous scenarios in his head. He needed an escape plan. Only there wasn’t one. He couldn’t get Jaskier out of there, leave Aliya alone with them, or provoke her in any way. 

In the meantime, Jaskier started untying Lianna’s scarf. She moved away, unhappy with that. They exchanged a few words, and it looked like they might part ways, but she seemed genuinely surprised to see him go. She ran after him and shouted his name. The moment he turned around, she pushed him against the tree, oddly aggressive. His back hit the bark. He stared at her, stupefied, and she chuckled in response, undeterred and playful. He barely managed to gather his thoughts before she launched forwards again and kissed him hard, wrapping her hands around his neck, pulling him down to the ground. 

‘Luckily for him, I don’t mind,’ Aliya smiled lightly, continuing her conversation with Geralt, unconcerned. ‘She can wear _me_ down and I have the strength of quite a few healthy people. I’m learning from you, you know. I’ll let him do the heavy lifting.’ Geralt looked at her with disbelief. She laughed quietly. ‘What about you?’

‘ _Me_?’ Geralt was slightly distracted by the sight of Jaskier who quickly adapted to Lianna’s combative attitude, and pushed her down, loosening the scarf and opening up her dress. 

She wrapped her legs around him, and stopped fighting, surprising him again. Weirdly self-satisfied, she just leaned back, and let the scarf slide off her neck. Her back and neck were arching, chest heaving, and the bites and bruises were clearly visible. That stopped him, and for a moment he just stared, worried for her, unsettled. 

His response seemed to affect her. She appeared puzzled for a moment, returned his look, then moved up again and gently caressed his face. Her other hand ran through his hair as she leaned towards him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He held her, strangely relieved, face relaxing, hands squeezing harder. She whispered something into his ear and he smiled, sad but somehow comforted.

Aliya looked at Geralt who seemed to forget she was there and just stared, his face tense and rattled. ‘It’s easy for some,’ she said quietly. 

Geralt turned to her with anger. ‘What the fuck are you trying to do?’

‘You’re constantly assuming I have the worst intentions.’ She tried to sound reconciliatory. ‘I’m just trying to figure you out. If we’re meant to survive each other, we should develop an understanding.’

‘So it’s not about _me_ or _him_ at all, then. It’s about you being scared.’ He didn’t seem convinced. ‘If that’s it, then why all the provocations? Why didn’t you attack me when I still didn’t know what you were?’

‘That just wouldn’t be fair. All that would do is break his heart. We both know what a miserable sight that would be.’ 

‘You want to give me a fighting chance because of _him_?’

‘I guess I respect his feelings more than you do.’ She chucked. ‘Although, that’s not the only reason.’

Geralt was doing his best to ignore Lianna and Jaskier, which was becoming increasingly difficult. 

Suddenly he pieced something together. ‘Can you read our thoughts?’ The moment he said it out loud, it seemed obvious.

‘Sometimes. Some of them. You’re not that bad at witchering, witcher.’ She smiled. ‘That’s good. That’s what I’ve heard.’

‘If I was, I’d be protecting her against you.’ He motioned towards Lianna, who, annoyingly enough, just managed to get Jaskier out of most of his clothes, and was climbing on top of him.

‘I think you should reconsider. She’d sacrifice anything to stay with me. This blind devotion is something they happen to share.’ Her head tilted a bit, staring at the two of them with clear enjoyment. ‘I’m not trying to appease you, Geralt, not really. Being worried about what you _might_ do is part of the fun. Even more so now, because the prospect of killing you is actually beginning to scare me. And fear... is not a feeling I get to experience often.’

‘Is that what this is about?’

‘Mhm?’ The sight distracted her a bit. ‘Yes, I am, in fact, getting a kick out of all this. I thought that much was clear.’ She laughed, looking at his face. ‘I was planning to encourage you to be a bit less sombre about things, to learn to enjoy yourself a bit, let yourself loose!’ She patted his shoulder, feigning compassion. ‘But I failed.’ She turned back to the pair of them. ‘In fact, I’m afraid all of us ended up treating this terribly seriously, don’t you think?’

Geralt shook his head, looking deflated, his eyes involuntarily drawn to Jaskier. His hands were just sliding down from Lianna’s waist to her hips. She let him control the pace for a while but her movements were beginning to grow faster and more fluid. He grasped for breath, and shut his eyes. She leaned forwards, and her hair scattered over his face. The dress was no longer covering her. The fabric was caught between them. 

‘Your problem, Geralt…’ Aliya started again, ‘is that you don’t understand the game you’re playing, and yet you keep at it to everybody’s detriment.’ She ruffled her hair as if she was getting ready for something. ‘I thought you were being a tad vicious towards Jaskier, an easy mistake to make.’ She took a small jar from her pocket and oiled her lips quickly. ‘I love playing cat and mouse _so much_ … I tend to see it everywhere. It comes with the territory.’ 

She adjusted her dress and pushed up her breasts.

‘Anyway,’ she continued. ‘I thought… You’re giving him just enough to keep him hoping but never what he wants. And he… He fights for you every day. It’s very endearing. Quite impressive too.’ She took a quick glance at Jaskier and then her eyes returned to Geralt. ‘But I was wrong,’ she emphasised the last word, slightly embarrassed. ‘You’re just playing hide and seek with yourself. And by extension, with him.’ She smiled at Geralt as if asking if he approved of her appearance but he ignored her. ‘You…’ She took out a little mirror to assess her looks herself. ‘You’re not refusing him anything. You are just too fucking scared to try.’ 

She looked satisfied with the results and hid the mirror away.

‘You shouldn’t be able to…’ Geralt was clearly disoriented. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

She sighed with resignation. ‘It’s sad, _very sad_.’ She looked down and straightened a small fold in her dress. ‘Either way, it’s time for you to confront the problem. Because, as much as I appreciate what Jaskier is doing, you are _both_ not coping with this, clearly.’ 

‘For somebody so supposedly observant, who has lived so long, you’re really failing to read this situation.’ Geralt sounded angry.

‘Hm?’ She didn’t seem insulted at all. ‘For somebody who believes himself to be an outsider, you are surprisingly conventional and lacking in imagination. But him? He can set you,’ she smiled to herself, ‘straight’.

Geralt was losing his patience. ‘You do realise, there are multiple, rational reasons to never even consider it, right? In fact, he is the one who is doing the considering. And he should stop. He is not a social outcast yet. Somehow. He doesn’t need to be. And he _clearly_ doesn’t need me to…’ His voice cracked, surprising him. ‘Or are you a special, _naive_ vampire, who somehow managed to live through centuries of a sheltered fucking existence?’

‘Who would have thought?’ She looked really proud of herself. ‘Something is finally cracking.’ She chuckled at her own joke. ‘You really don’t have to explain this to me.’ She shook her head with disapproval. ‘You think this is complicated, somehow?’ she asked him, annoyed. ‘It’s really fucking simple. You think you’re the only one? _Please_. Most people who face this dilemma don’t whine half as much as you do. Most of them actually have the balls to go through with it too.’ 

She sounded genuinely angry for once, and stopped for a moment to calm herself down. 

‘It’s not easy,’ she admitted with some effort. ‘I’m not saying that. But stop being so fucking proud of yourself for considering the consequences. It’s hardly an enlightened discovery. Everything that matters comes with a price. And... is this even about you?’ Her eyes just passively followed Jaskier for a while. ‘What you are actually saying is,’ she continued, her eyes still set on Jaskier, ‘you don’t trust him to decide for himself. But he is not a child, you know. With a lifespan that short, this is as mature as he gets.’

Geralt was just about to respond when she stopped him. 

‘Wait,’ she whispered. ‘Listen.’

Lianna’s breathing was breaking down into small gasps. She moaned softly. Geralt could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat accelerating.

‘I think they’re both almost there, don’t you?’ Geralt looked back at her, exasperated. ‘Well, I think that’s good enough anyway.’ 

She waited a few more seconds and rapidly snapped her fingers. Perfectly synchronized with the sound, both Jaskier and Lianna became completely motionless but for the rapid breathing. Lianna looked up, her face sweaty, eyes fixed on Aliya as if she could see her through the impenetrable darkness. 

Aliya smiled with something akin to pride. ‘Well...’ She looked at Geralt, disapprovingly. ‘At least one of them will get a happy ending.’ 

The two stood up and started walking towards them in an odd trance, moving slowly through the meadow, unnaturally calm. Lianna, completely naked and surprisingly conscious in comparison to Jaskier, walked up straight to Aliya and smiled at her lovingly. Aliya grabbed her hand, kissed it lightly, and dragged her away into the night. 

Geralt turned his eyes towards Jaskier who was standing close, staring ahead blankly, still completely unaware of what was happening. He was breathy, cheeks flushed, hair messy, pupils almost as wide as Geralt’s. He was down to just his shirt which was opened half way, and hanging slightly off his shoulder. 

Geralt very determinedly kept his eyes on Jaskier’s face. At such proximity, and with the potion still rushing through Geralt’s veins, Jaskier’s heartbeat was pulsating in his head like mad, strong and much louder than his own. 

Geralt’s mouth suddenly ran dry. 

He ignored that, took a deep, calming breath and backed away so Jaskier wouldn’t see him when he regained consciousness. He walked through the meadow to collect Jaskier’s clothes. When he returned, Jaskier did not look any more awake than before. He was definitely not ready to be abandoned with his clothes at his feet. 

Geralt got a bit worried. He waved his hand in front of Jaskier’s hazy eyes, in vain. ‘Jaskier… Jaskier?’ 

No response. Breath still fast. Face vacant. His lower lip was starting to swell from Lianna’s bite.

Geralt noticed his own breath was running short too, and got angry with himself. He let out an exasperated sigh. Increasingly frustrated, he noted the long list of annoying things about Jaskier was getting longer, and went back to collect Lianna’s dress. 

He looked strangely defeated walking through the darkness to wrap Jaskier in the fabric and carry him back to their camp.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a truth universally acknowledged that the fear of death makes the heart grow fonder. 

Geralt woke up with a dull headache. One of his ears was ringing from the change in air pressure, and his mouth was dry. He stood up to get some water, stretched his shoulders, and felt the sunshine on his back. It was another perfect day and another picturesque stretch of forest, as removed from war and plunder as they come. 

But there was a storm brewing in the air. 

Both Aliya and Lianna were still away, their things scattered around the campsite. 

Jaskier, luckily, was where Geralt had left him, wrapped in Lianna’s dress and still asleep. Not knowing how long the trance might take to wear off, Geralt hesitated to wake him. He just kept checking on him, increasingly impatient, slightly worried. 

As another hour passed with no change, he sat by him and gently shook his shoulder. Jaskier just turned, still unconscious, now facing him. His features looked surprisingly dignified when expressionless, all muscles relaxed. 

It felt bizarre and out of place, in the light of day, to think last night’s events affected Geralt so much. With the sun above his head, all the obvious and inevitable facts of life seemed more bearable somehow. 

He tried again, shook him a bit harder, and Jaskier just moaned lightly in his sleep, his face turning away. It felt like nothing Geralt did had any effect. Jaskier was, however, clearly fine, just a bit sweaty perhaps, most likely because Geralt unnecessarily covered him with an extra blanket. 

Geralt brushed away a strand of Jaskier’s hair, seeing it was sticking to his forehead, then moved his fingers through his hair, just to make sure it was all in place. That was a weak excuse, he admitted to himself. Jaskier’s hair was a fucking mess regardless. 

Then a thought hit him. 

That was it. This was the end, _the_ resolution to their shared travels. All the available paths slowly merged into one. Geralt couldn’t let Lianna die. He also couldn’t defeat Aliya. He blinked a few times, shocked by the simplicity of that equation. A wave of sadness came over him. It was much more intense than he anticipated. For a moment he considered that perhaps he was a bit too casual when he explained to Jaskier, all these years ago, that it was inevitable for all witchers to one day find themselves too slow and facing a stronger opponent. It felt too early. But, then again, was there ever a time that felt right? 

The wind was growing stronger. The tree branches above them were cracking a bit, but the forest seemed calm regardless. The leaves were delicate, fresh and thin. It hadn’t been long since they were still in buds, unwinding slowly. Everything seemed more vivid somehow. Geralt looked at the play of light on the bark. The bright blue of the sky was clear and striking. 

He couldn’t ponder it for too long because Jaskier suddenly shifted in his sleep. His eyes started racing underneath his eyelids. His hands were grasping onto the blanket, and his face lost its tranquil demeanour. For a moment Geralt thought something was wrong but then realised it was just a bad dream. Jaskier was trying to say something to someone, somewhere else, but just let out a pained sigh instead. 

Geralt hesitated at first but then slowly held out his hand and ran his fingers along Jaskier’s cheek, trying to calm him down. 

Still unconscious, Jaskier leaned towards his hand, and brushed his lips against Geralt’s knuckles. 

Geralt shook his head. ‘You don’t stop… even in your fucking sleep, do you?’ He moved his thumb along Jaskier’s lower lip, stopping where the swelling from Lianna’s bite started. ‘See?’ he said with a sigh, not expecting a response. ‘Exactly as I thought. Pointless heartbreak.’ 

***

Jaskier woke up with a jolt, surprised. For a moment, he stared at the bright sky above him like it didn’t belong there. He lifted himself up to look around. Disoriented, and a bit uneasy, he relaxed the moment he saw Geralt nearby, but then was instantly thrown off by the sight. ‘Gods, Geralt! You look as if somebody asked you to attend your own funeral. Are you alright?’ His voice took on warmer tones, the timbre lowering as he asked. 

‘Yes, I’m…’

‘Please don’t say you’re fine. I have eyes, you know.’ He waited, in vain. Geralt definitely didn’t want to talk about it. ‘I know you hate talking about how you feel. But give me _something_.’ Jaskier waited again, patient and undeterred. ‘Anything I can do?’

Geralt was taken aback. Jaskier’s concern was really getting to him this time. 

‘Were you worried about me?’ Jaskier sounded both caring and hopeful. ‘Did you think I died? Because I was _definitely_ out of it.’ His memories seemed oddly jumbled together. ‘I was just… I mean… was that a dream?’ He didn’t notice Geralt’s uneasiness at the question. As he tried to sit up, he felt his movements were constricted by the fabric. He looked underneath the blanket. ‘Why am I wrapped in Lianna’s dress?’

‘Aliya put you in a trance. I didn’t want to carry you around half-naked.’

‘A trance? Is that what this was?’ Suddenly he realised there was a more urgent question. ‘Why were _you_ there?’

‘Aliya was proving a point.’

‘What point?’

‘A very frustrating one.’

‘You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?’

‘No, no straight answer to that one, no.’ 

Jaskier sighed, annoyed. ‘How long were you…’ he started but never finished the question. ‘I probably shouldn’t want to know.’ He looked up at Geralt again, trying and failing to stop himself. ‘Was it good?’

Geralt just stared, his eyes vacant.

‘Yes, yes, _right_ … sorry. Forget I asked.’ Suddenly he realised something. ‘Was _that_ what upset you?’ He stared at Geralt in disbelief. 

‘No, Jaskier. Please stop.’

‘It can’t have anything to do with Aliya being a vampire. You suspected that for ages.’ He just lay there for a few minutes, thinking. ‘Is it Lianna?’ he asked, observing him closely.

Geralt just shook his head, murmuring under his breath. He looked weirdly helpless.

‘ _Don’t_ … think you’ll discourage me. I’ll make sense of these grunts, believe me.’ He struggled to arrive at an explanation, opting for thinking out loud. ‘But why would she let Aliya… would she, really? Do you think she actually likes this? Or is she secretly terrified?’ He considered it for a moment. ‘No, she really doesn’t seem… It’s not like that. All I could see was some healthy attachment. And yet…’

Geralt barely repressed a laugh. ‘That explains a lot,’ he whispered to himself but Jaskier heard it clear as day.

‘What? Like what?’

‘Your idea of a _healthy_ attachment.’

‘Are you making fun of me?’ 

Geralt shook his head to deny it, but was chuckling at the same time. ‘They are together, if that’s what you mean,’ he added finally.

‘Are they? Well, I…’ Jaskier thought about it for a moment. ‘That makes a lot of sense, actually.’

Geralt grunted, slightly surprised it was so easy for Jaskier to come to terms with this.

‘Is she risking her life for this?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Is this what she wants?’

‘To die?’

‘No, fuck. Do you have to simplify like that?’ Jaskier didn’t wait for a response. ‘Sometimes it seems you are completely blind to the fucked up intricacies of human emotions.’ He quickly realised what he said. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘I know you didn’t.’ Geralt’s voice sounded surprisingly warm.

Jaskier stopped for a moment, disconcerted, then continued. ‘I just meant you’re reading this too simply. You think she’s a damsel in distress being slowly murdered by her evil vampire girlfriend. But that just doesn’t seem right to me.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t mean _morally_ … although obviously it isn’t. I mean, I don’t think that’s accurate.’ He waited for Geralt to consider other possibilities but he looked unconvinced. ‘There are things Lianna said…’

‘What did she say?’

‘I was worried at first but… she’s obsessed with Aliya, not scared of her at all. And she appears to be… in charge.’ He seemed surprised by his own conclusions. 

‘What? Really?’ Geralt shook his head. ‘What are you saying? She’s just bait? She’s not in danger at all?’ 

‘I think she knows exactly what she’s doing. The two of them seem like a good team.’

‘Hm.’ Geralt didn’t see it. ‘I think Lianna is just a meal-in-waiting.’

‘Perhaps they are happy together.’

Geralt blinked a few times. ‘Happy?’ He stared at Jaskier with growing suspicion. ‘Would you be happy knowing your _beloved_ can kill you any given day?’

‘Well, but if they don’t, it means they care. So in a sense… just living another day proves you are being loved.’ He looked deep in thought. ‘That’s beautiful, really.’

‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘All I’m saying is… What if Lianna is fine with this?’

‘Fine?’ Geralt stared at him in disbelief. ‘Aliya is a ruthless murderer.’

‘Maybe that’s Lianna’s type.’

‘I thought you…’

‘I _what_?’

Geralt didn’t respond, just shrugged his shoulders.

‘You didn’t ask me about Lianna earlier because you thought I was hopelessly in love?’

Geralt grunted uncomfortably. ‘Maybe not _in love_ but you were… doing… your… _thing_.’

Jaskier just stared at Geralt, as he was trying to get the words out, slightly concerned. ‘She’s _perfect_. It’s like she’s been designed specifically for me. And that might be the point. It feels too much like a trap. Something is off about this. Don’t tell me you don’t see it too.’ He looked directly at Geralt for a moment, a bit puzzled, slowly realising something. ‘Is there a reason you’re not thinking things through? You should be on top of this but you’ve been so distracted.’ Jaskier ignored Geralt’s offended look, and just kept talking. ‘Were you planning to sacrifice your life to save her… so she and I could live happily ever after? Or something _ridiculous_ like that?’

‘No, I…’

‘Was that it? Did I get it?’

‘No, Jaskier…’

‘ _Fuck that_ ,’ he blurted out with unexpected intensity. ‘Why would you _even_ … It’s not even _close_ to an option. With all the respect for your skills and experience, Geralt… if you simply barge in to drag Lianna away from her, Aliya will gut you like one of those poor rabbits.’ He shuddered at the memory and took a moment before continuing. His mind, once prompted, was eager to keep conjuring images which made his skin crawl. ‘Well, that would be me collecting pieces of you for a week,’ he summarised, quickly. ‘And Lianna would just hate your gutless corpse for even trying. And _then_ , of course, she’d happily run back to Aliya.’ He shook his head. ‘Pointless! I’m sure there are plenty of vastly superior solutions. You need to think. The way you _normally_ would.’

‘I did think this through,’ Geralt said, confidently, instantly realising he hadn’t. 

‘You shouldn’t go through these intense, internal melodramas of yours without me. It does you no bloody good.’

Geralt was determined to roll his eyes at that, but instead just stared back. He tried but failed to hide the feeling of relief washing over him. ‘She…’ he started, feeling awkward admitting it. ‘Aliya really got under my skin.’

Jaskier froze for a moment, and then smiled with something like pride. He quickly wiped the expression off his face, worried Geralt might not like what it implies. ‘I can…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I can see that. Just… You know you can ask if you want to know, right? Or if you need anything? I don’t want you to…’

‘No, I just…’

‘Assumed the worst?’

‘Mhm.’ The grunt sounded almost like agreement, although it could just as easily be a sign of irritation.

‘See? Things are not as bad as you imagined.’ Jaskier’s tone turned comforting again.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Geralt nodded, something in his look shifting slightly. His thoughts suddenly started racing and he seemed to want to say something but struggled, appearing increasingly uncomfortable.

‘A _real_ higher vampire, eh?’ Jaskier started suddenly, sounding impressed despite himself. ‘I never thought I would meet one. You know, overall, let alone travel with one and live to see another day.’

Geralt tilted his head a bit, and smiled. ‘Not all of them are violent,’ he clarified. ‘In fact, _most_ aren’t. In some circles, drinking blood is considered in bad taste. And some vampires really embarrass themselves when drunk. Blood is worse than alcohol. _Much_ worse.’

‘Does she actually want us dead?’

‘No, I don’t think so. At least not yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘She seems to find us entertaining.’

‘Well, _thank gods_ for that.’ He seemed relieved. ‘We should do our best to keep it that way.’

‘I think, so far, things are going in a direction she finds compelling.’

‘Right, _good_. That’s good.’ 

‘She also seems to be surprisingly concerned about what you think and feel.’

‘That’s useful… and _rare_.’

Jaskier finally managed to sit up, the dress awkwardly sticking out from underneath the blanket, and stared at Geralt for a moment. He measured him up and down with a suspicious look and then dropped back down. 

‘What was that?’ Geralt asked, sounding amused.

‘Something is different.’

‘What?’

Jaskier thought about it for a while. ‘It’s so strange. You're teasing just the same but it’s almost like… you’re taking me seriously now.’

Geralt was stunned for a second. ‘Well, don’t get used to it.’ He raised his brows and smiled with slight arrogance.

‘No, Geralt,’ he sounded surprisingly confident. ‘I think I _can_ get used to it.’

***

Suddenly they heard someone approaching and saw Lianna stumbling towards them, unstable, barely able to hold herself up. There was dry blood on her neck, and she was wrapped in nothing but her scarf. She moved slowly, and was too breathless to shout out. 

Jaskier ran up to her. As he grabbed her and she clung to him, he felt her rapid heartbeat against his chest. The pace was frantic. Her breath was short and shallow. 

‘Geralt… she’s so cold,’ he said and looked up at him, scared. 

Geralt just nodded and went in search of his bag. 

Jaskier struggled lowering her slowly to the ground, trying to be as gentle as he could. Her body was growing faint in his arms. Her skin was sticky to the touch, ashen white. Soon they were both in the grass, her head on his chest, hands holding on to his shirt. He was trying his best to ease her panic but she was terrified, unable to stop hyperventilating. Her head was swimming.

‘You’ll be fine, Lianna. You’ll be fine,’ he whispered, but struggled to believe it himself.

Finally, her muscles relaxed a bit and she took a few deeper breaths. She then refocused her eyes, and stared at Jaskier’s thumb which was moving along the back of her hand, surprised. She blinked hard, and looked increasingly scared. He didn’t understand.

‘I can’t feel that,’ she said, frantically, her voice shaking. ‘There’s some tingling in my fingers but I can’t feel that at all.’ 

Geralt brought over his bag, and looked through his collection of potions, bottles clinking. ‘I have what you need. You’ll get over it.’ His voice was calm to the point of being dismissive but it worked. It had a soothing effect on her. He covered her with a couple of blankets, and checked her pulse. His face changed.

She didn’t notice but Jaskier did. He instantly knew Geralt was not sure if she was going to make it. They looked at each other for a moment. Jaskier was becoming increasingly distraught, but Geralt just shook his head as if to tell him to compose himself. 

‘Give her that,’ he handed Jaskier a vial. ‘And plenty of water. Make sure she stays awake. Keep her warm.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I need to chat with Aliya.’ There was some barely perceptible anger in his voice. ‘You can handle this.’

Jaskier just nodded. His heart was sinking as he watched Geralt walking away. 

***

Lianna was drinking greedily. All the water he brought to her was disappearing in seconds. Jaskier was relieved to notice that whatever Geralt offered her was working. Although she was still breathy, and her heartbeat erratic, she was growing stronger. As she did, her emotions slowly shifted from extreme panic to an intense mix of sadness and anger. 

‘I’m so… stupid,’ she said, gasping for air. ‘I didn’t… _think._ I didn’t think it could be… like this. I wasn’t… It wasn’t meant to go that far.’ Her eyes watered. ‘I didn’t…’

‘Stop that,’ he sounded assertive but warm. ‘This is _not_ your fault.’

‘Oh, but it is… _it is_.’ Her lips were trembling and she looked away from him, ashamed. ‘The highs… the highs were so good… it just made the lows feel like a fair price, you know?’ She wiped tears off her face, and tried to breathe deeper. ‘I pushed as far as I could. But this time… I don’t know… what it was. I just got scared… _so scared_.’ She started hyperventilating again, and grabbed on to him tighter, her hand shaking slightly. ‘And then, suddenly, it didn’t matter,’ she said, slightly surprised. ‘I just _couldn’t_ any more. The things I would tell myself. All gone. It’s obvious now. It’s hard… to believe… it wasn’t… before.’ 

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing new.’ She smiled, somehow amused by the idea. ‘Nothing new,’ she repeated, overwhelmed by that realisation. ‘Sometimes I feel like I never had a chance. Not because of her. I just wouldn’t back away when I should. Like I owed something… to myself… for all the things I sacrificed… for this. All the times I thought it was the right thing to do.’ 

‘Lianna, she’s a monster. You can’t blame yourself for what she does.’

‘It’s not her fault. She doesn’t understand. She has no means to.’

‘She knows exactly what she’s doing to you.’

She shook his head, frustrated with his resistance. ‘I hated my life before she came along. I hated it… _so much_.’ The memory was making her upset. She was dazed but fought to stay lucid. ‘Before her… I would pretend to be somebody else. Every day… until it started to feel natural. Nothing was up to me, not really. And if somebody asked me what I wanted, I wouldn’t be able to say.’ She looked up at him, hesitant, but continued regardless. ‘But, _see_ … she didn’t need to ask. She just _knew_.’ 

He stared at her, confused. Her breath was calming down now, and her heartbeat was normalizing. 

She was looking ahead, deep in thought, not a trace of her previous panic. ‘Can you take me away from here?’ she asked, calmly. 

He was surprised by the question. ‘She’d find us… and kill us both.’

‘I don’t think she would. I think she’s nearly done with me. Isn’t he done with you?’

‘What?’ 

She looked back at him, puzzled. Her head dropped on his shoulder. ‘We could be better,’ she whispered, ‘away from them.’ 

‘Lianna, I’m not…’

‘It’s difficult, but possible to finally stop hoping. It’s freeing, you know? How long can we fight this losing battle? And why? If it’s possible... it _must_ be possible to just leave. We _can_ just leave.’ She seemed elated for a moment but then quickly realised he wasn’t seeing things her way. ‘They _can’t_ feel the way _we_ do,’ she said with great urgency. ‘It doesn’t matter how much we want to believe they might one day. They just _can’t_. It will never…’ She looked at him, and saw no recognition in his eyes. She turned away, resigned.

‘Geralt would never hurt me,’ he responded, sounding a bit cold.

‘Yes, perhaps. But he’ll never love you, either.’

***

Aliya was not difficult to find. She was just lying on the grass at what must have been, for her, a comfortable listening distance. Soaking in the sunshine, she looked relaxed and happy. Geralt walked up, and created a long shadow. She frowned. 

‘Lianna’s barely alive,’ he stated simply.

‘Yes, I know,’ she fretted, as if he had pointed out a stain on her shirt. ‘These things happen sometimes. But…’ She smiled, clearly delighted. ‘It was so fucking perfect. You wouldn’t believe it. Jaskier really warmed her up, bless him.’ She moved out of his shadow, and the sun was on her face again. ‘After all this time, she should know better than to panic.’ She shook her head with disapproval, then reconsidered. ‘To be fair, though, I _was_ tempted to kill her for a split second. Perhaps she could tell.’ Her hand moved across the grass and grabbed a daffodil growing nearby. ‘So good, you just want to keep it there.’ She stared at the flower for a moment and then started ripping it apart with a weird determination. 

‘This is as far as this goes.’

Aliya looked up at him, confused. ‘What?’

‘Lianna and you.’

‘You want to save her… _from me_?’ She seemed genuinely surprised by the idea.

‘Is that odd?’

‘Yes, very much so.’

He didn’t look convinced.

‘Are you suggesting I don’t know what I’m doing?’ she asked, slightly offended.

He just stared, baffled.

‘That is very disappointing, Geralt. I thought we were on the same page.’

‘Why did you do this to her? It’s not like you…’

‘Not like me? You mean, you failed to predict this, let me drag her away, and feel a bit stupid now?’

He grunted, increasingly angry, both with her and himself.

‘We were _celebrating_ ,’ she stated with persistence. ‘Don’t you drink more on special occasions?’ She smiled, seeing his highly sceptical look. ‘People get scared when they are on the verge of death. It’s just how they are. I can’t fix that.’ She seemed quite amused by the idea. ‘I walk all the way up to that line. I don’t cross it. It’s not a mistake I would make. Not unless I mean to.’

‘You will _not_ kill her.’ Geralt took on a threatening tone.

‘Yes, that’s what I’m saying.’

‘No…’ He rolled his eyes, annoyed. ‘I mean, I won’t let you kill her.’ 

She stared attentively as if she wasn’t sure if he was joking. ‘What are you saying?’

‘You _know_ what I’m saying.’ Her confused look made it almost hard for him to continue. ‘I will stop you.’

‘How?’ She seemed genuinely curious, and waited for an answer, in vain.

Then she just blinked a few times and stretched her arms pointing out the landscape around them. They were surrounded by blooming trees and a sea of fresh grass. The sunshine was pleasant this time, no suffocating heat to speak of. The mountains behind them were picturesque to say the least. 

‘This, all this,’ she said, looking straight at him, ‘is as good as it gets. I gave you everything you need. You’ve got Jaskier basically begging you to let him bring some joy into your life. And what do you do? You ask me to kill you?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘What is your problem? Do you have a grudge against happiness?’ 

‘Just… stop the nonsense.’

‘Do you really want to do this?’

‘It’s the right thing to do.’

‘Fuck me, that…’ She appeared overwhelmed by the implications of that statement, her eyes growing wide. ‘That is a kind of philosophical debate we simply don’t have the time for.’

‘I’m not asking for your opinion.’ 

‘I will not hold back if you pressure me on it. You understand that?’

‘I’d expect nothing else.’

‘I thought I made it clear that I’m…’ her voice shifted, sounding perturbed, and she hesitated. ‘I don’t think killing witchers is ethical. We have more than enough humans. They breed like fucking rabbits. Most of them are not even that interesting… but _you._ ’

‘You could just let her go.’

‘And you’d be comfortable with that? It’s obvious I’d just find another one.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘What’s so special about Lianna?’

‘You’re asking me?’ 

She chuckled. ‘You don’t think she can decide for herself? If she asked me to leave her alone, I would. But she doesn’t.’ She was getting really frustrated, and appeared increasingly emotional which surprised Geralt a little. ‘She knows what she's in for. She knew from the beginning. I’m not going to coddle her just because she can’t stomach what she agreed to. Gods know, I...’ she stopped, feeling like she already said too much.

‘Maybe she doesn’t feel like she has a choice.’

‘Are _you_ giving her a choice?’ Her tone was increasingly mocking. ‘It would be awkward if you went through all that effort, cut me up into little pieces, and then… _Ooops_ , she doesn’t like it!’ 

‘She doesn’t want to die.’

‘Well, bad luck. She’s fucking human. Are you going to fix that for her too?’ She sat up, and stared straight at him. ‘There’s a war happening around us. How much of a chance does she have without me?’ She smiled, seeing he didn't have an answer. Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘In fact, how much of a chance do any of you have?’ 

He remained quiet.

‘And Lianna,’ she started again, ‘is not a prize at a fair. Or a fucking princess who needs you to fight for her honour.’

‘What makes this so hard to understand?’

She lifted herself up and stood in front of him. ‘Fine. So how do you want to do this, then?’ She rolled up her sleeves, her movements exaggerated, eyes playful. ‘You want to settle this now?’ She walked up closer, and stared straight in his eyes, suppressing a laugh.

‘Is this a joke to you?’

‘Fucking, please. Listen to yourself.’ 

He just stood there, as determined as he was from the start. 

She sighed and took a moment to reconsider. ‘So what do you want, then? A little battle at the border? All dramatic, storm raging?’ She looked up at the sky. The clouds looked pretty thin but they could both feel the pressure changing. ‘A bit trite but fair enough, I suppose,’ she agreed, finally. ‘The winner takes Lianna and can go through the gate? Is that the kind of thing you have in mind? You want Jaskier in the audience, cheering you on?’ The perspective seemed amusing to her. ‘The winner takes Jaskier, maybe? I wouldn’t mind keeping them both.’ 

‘What? Jaskier is not…’

‘ _Ah_.’ She smiled, extremely self-satisfied. ‘Do we even want to consider the implications?’ 

He opened his mouth, then chose to ignore her. ‘I want Jaskier out of this.’ He sounded very determined and Aliya nodded in response. 

‘Don’t we all?’

‘I want you to let him through regardless of what happens to me.’

‘What’s the point, then?’ She seemed aggressive but her voice was growing soft. She shook her head. ‘Fine… sure. He can go.’ 

He was surprised she agreed so easily, and felt weirdly grateful. Her mood was clearly shifting. 

‘Are you sure you want to go through with this?’ There was something almost like compassion in her voice. 

‘I don’t have a choice.’

‘Shit, _Geralt_.’ She looked at the ground, and tried to compose herself. She remained motionless for a while. It was clear she was becoming upset. Her eyes were watering. 

‘Are you fucking crying?’ 

‘Well, I…’ She looked away from him and brushed her hand through her hair, nervously. ‘I really didn’t want things to go this way. For a while, I was hoping…’ Her voice cracked, and he just stared at her in disbelief. ‘Sorry, _ehm_ …’ She closed her eyes for a few seconds. ‘I know, it’s a bit amateurish. But don’t worry. By the time we get there, I’ll be ready. I just need a minute or two.’ She took a deep breath, tried to calm herself down but failed. ‘You _honestly_ don’t deserve what I’m about to do to you.’

He blinked a few times, visibly thrown off by her behaviour. She looked back at him, a bit overwhelmed, then hesitated and seemed angry with herself for some unspecified reason. Finally, she walked up to him and hugged him tight. He looked mildly shocked but let her.

‘I’ll miss you,’ she whispered with her head on his shoulder.

‘Aliya, you are _completely_ insane.’ 

‘Right, _right_ …’ She moved away and wiped her eyes. ‘We should prepare.’ She nodded lightly. ‘Lianna might need a moment, though. Let’s stay here just a little bit longer, hm? Let’s try to relax. Maybe some food? We don’t have to hurry. We’re almost at the border anyway.’

‘You mean, what? We should go in a few hours?’

‘Yes, is that a problem?’ 

It was odd how any signs of her sadness were already beginning to evaporate. She appeared focused and calm, although her eyes were red, still. 

‘Wouldn’t it make more sense to attack at night?’ he asked.

She just stared at him as if she didn’t understand what he meant. Then it dawned on her. ‘Oh, you think it makes a difference?’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘They don’t have a chance either way.’

Geralt just about opened his mouth to speak but she didn’t let him.

‘I’ll get it done…’ She smiled, dismissively. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head about it.’

‘Fuck you, Aliya. Sincerely… _fuck you_.’

She laughed, and started walking away. ‘Oh, Geralt?’ She turned back to him. ‘What would you like for your last meal?’

*** 

Throughout the afternoon, they all pretended everything was normal. Somebody watching them from afar would never have guessed they were anything but friends. Lianna slept for a while, then chatted with Aliya as she did before. They were smiling and joking under Geralt’s careful watch. He was attentive, and focused on Aliya. He told himself he was just making sure she was at her best behaviour. She was. 

It was only because their time together had taken on an air of ease and affinity that they could now sense the nervousness underlying their every movement and word. The tension was becoming overbearing as the time to leave loomed close. Jaskier was overly chatty. He was grasping on to every moment with Geralt with barely veiled desperation. His nervous laughter was cutting through the air at regular intervals, and Geralt genuinely did not find it annoying, not even a little. 

Jaskier’s hands would dance around as he spoke and land on Geralt with increasing frequency, encouraging, comforting, provoking, and demanding attention. And not once did Geralt flinch, shake them off or move away. He was more patient with Jaskier than he had ever been before. To everybody’s astonishment, he would respond to teasing and overfamiliarity with warmth. He was disproportionately grateful for, and responsive to, Jaskier’s eager attempts to keep their moods up despite the circumstances. 

As happy as that made Jaskier, he also knew it meant serious trouble. And a tiny part of him was angry with Geralt for allowing this only once they were at a cusp of a disaster. Mostly, however, he just used the opportunity to enjoy the smoother flow of their interactions and was shocked to discover Geralt did the same.

‘We should get ready to go,’ Geralt said, finally breaking the spell. He felt guilty as if they could keep up the game permanently, as long as nobody said the words.

Aliya and Lianna were sitting nearby but paid no attention to him. They were trying to agree on the best way to transport Lianna to the border in her current state. 

‘What? Already?’ Jaskier’s voice was drenched in disappointment. There was a note of fear hiding underneath his seemingly casual tone. 

‘She agreed to let you through. You’ll be safe.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll stay behind.’

‘No, no, no, no, no… I’m not hearing this.’ Jaskier was becoming animated. His hands were already cutting through the air in obvious dismay. ‘You can’t possibly…’ he started but instantly realised it was pointless, and just stood there, looking helpless.

‘I need you to go through and keep walking. The further away you are, the better. If I manage to leave, I’ll find you.’

‘If?’ Jaskier chuckled, sadly. ‘What are your chances, exactly?’

Geralt’s first instinct was to lie. He was ready to say ‘I’ll be fine’, but hesitated. ‘I don’t know,’ he said simply. He looked at Jaskier expecting him to panic but he was calm, sad but not surprised. ‘A silver sword can, potentially, hurt her,’ Geralt added, finally.

‘Potentially…’ Jaskier’s voice was flat. He was staring into the ground.

‘If things go bad, I need to know you’re fine.’

Jaskier looked up. He was holding himself together by a thread, yet somehow managed not to show a trace of his usual outrage at Geralt’s reckless behaviour. He looked unsure at first but then just moved closer and hugged Geralt, holding on to him with all his strength.

‘Jaskier…’

‘ _Shut up_ and let me.’

Geralt remained still. He didn’t return the embrace at all, and was clearly impatient for it to end. He felt oddly hurt by it. 

Jaskier didn’t seem discouraged. ‘It’s pretty impressive, Geralt. It really does feel you’d be more comfortable being murdered by Aliya right now.’ 

‘Just…’ Geralt sighed and patted Jaskier’s back despite himself ‘…don’t do anything stupid.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supposedly, all witchers must one day prove too slow in the face of a stronger opponent. However, some bards see other possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is almost over! Thanks so much for engaging with my work. The comments have been so wonderful and I am immensely grateful for every interaction and for the kudos. This has been an incredible experience 😊
> 
> I am planning the second part of this. The outline is done, and I will start writing as soon as I finish all my other WIPs. I have two other Geraskier fics lined up before I get there (including [one I wrote for Geralt Fluff Week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687111)). 
> 
> Please [subscribe to me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaire_Seton) and I'll bring you as many fics as I can possibly produce. I have an advanced addiction to Geraskier so you can trust me to keep writing these until I burn out and fall apart (and I still have some life in me!). 
> 
> Also, follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlaireSeton) or [Tumblr](http://oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co.tumblr.com/) if you want to see what I'm up to.
> 
> [LovelyRita1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) has done an impressive amount of fantastic work on this chapter as she did on all the other ones. Not only is she the best beta one can possibly hope for (and imagine) but she is also a wonderful, supportive friend and a brilliant writer. Please check out [her writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) if you haven't already. Her Geraskier fics are charming, sweet and clever ❤️
> 
> And here's this beast of a chapter. To quote my favourite woman: 'fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy ride'.

They found a hill with a perfect view of the gate below. 

It was late in the day. The air felt thick, suffocating, humid and unpleasant. The landscape around them was scattered with houses, and the roads were still excessively dusty despite the muggy weather. At the horizon, they could see fog rolling in from the fields. The area felt abandoned. There was not a murmur within the walls. A few of the doors were open, revealing dark emptiness within. There were some stray dogs running around, cautious and eager to hide, too scared to approach people. The guards and soldiers were the only people left behind, the last voices filling the desolate space. There was a decent amount of them, possibly more behind the wall. 

Before they left, Aliya changed into a white, linen dress. She also offered a similar one to Lianna, who accepted it with a weird glint in her eye. It meant something. When she started adjusting her cleavage, Geralt couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. ‘No taste for theatrics?’ she asked, smiling.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, lungs stretched to full capacity, face relaxed. As soon he noticed the whites of her eyes flashing again, she was already focused on the little figures moving around the settlement. She was excited, although her movements were almost anxious. He could hear her heart racing. Her hands were getting a bit sweaty, although the weather could justify that too. 

‘Look at that! How civilized.’ She was speaking to Geralt again, and pointing at a little public square. ‘They even have a breaking wheel and one of these tasteful cages.’ She pretended to struggle to see. ‘What’s that inside?’ Her brows furrowed. ‘All the while, they are murdering each other by the thousands. But sure. Hold me up to an impossible moral standard, why don’t you?’ She chucked at the sight of his face, and patted his back lightly.

As her hand moved away, Geralt saw that it was shaking slightly. 

Aliya noticed him stare and shrugged her shoulders. ‘It is what it is,’ she said, sounding relatively indifferent. ‘There’s no fucking way I’m doing any of this shit sober, though,’ she sighed. ‘Well, wish me luck. And please don’t panic when I’m away.’ She paid no attention to his response. Her eyes were focused on the men below. 

She picked one and ran down, leaving Geralt behind. 

Jaskier and Lianna were sitting at a distance, not eager to witness what Aliya was about to do. Geralt couldn’t look away for a second. Some of the people he saw by the gate were walking away. They moved leisurely along the track, and left a small group of soldiers behind. He was surprised. It was, however, possible keeping the place secure was not a priority. Maybe they could sneak through with Aliya strategically pulling the right strings. Maybe there was a better, less busy place to cross nearby. He certainly hoped so as he observed her lonely figure moving closer to the men.

She chatted up her chosen soldier. Her movements were fluid, hips swinging lightly. She didn’t look like a killer, and didn’t seem nervous at all. The fabric of her dress was flashing against the dull background like a white flag. Her face was all smiles, and the man was clearly enthralled. His companions were eagerly competing for her attention. Despite her perfect disguise, her every gesture was calculated and precise to an extent that was almost revealing. There was nothing spontaneous about anything she did. If Geralt saw her like this the first time, he would have been suspicious. They weren’t.

He realised that, of course, Aliya could have used her hypnotic powers. And yet, it seemed she had decided not to. Perhaps she enjoyed the challenge. Or maybe she reveled in the idea that it was their own mistake to invite her in. She gave them a choice, and yet their mistake had an air of inevitability.

The gate cracked open, she walked in, and then came silence. 

As the time passed, all looked peaceful. Geralt was impatient, and increasingly unsure of her plans. He considered whether she could have found an amicable solution. Then imagined her leaving without them. If she really wanted to avoid fighting him, was not interested in Jaskier, and was tired of Lianna, then why the fuck not? It would be an odd choice but most of her choices were, in fact, odd. Geralt couldn’t decide if he was speculating or hoping. 

The rain finally started. Big drops hit the leaves above his head, and the ground greedily soaked in the water. The smell in the air changed instantly.

Geralt wanted to join Jaskier who, after considering a couple of options, ended up tucked under the overhang of the closest roof with Lianna but didn’t dare. He felt his eyes following him at all times. Jaskier’s emotions were bloody obvious and too intense to handle. They were stretched to a limit Geralt was not willing to test. There was the nervous anticipation of what might happen, and then the fear, which was intensifying as the minutes passed. Somehow, it appeared much worse each time Geralt turned towards him. Jaskier’s attachment, worry and care were overwhelming, always there, like a loud, continuous hum. Geralt could hear it so clearly, and he could barely stand it. It was ringing in his ears the whole day, relentless. So no, he stayed away. 

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the rain. He heard the splashing water, the gentle drumming of drops hitting the roof, and the droplets sprinkling the grass. It was calming. 

Then he heard the screams. 

***

They saw her figure approaching them through the rain. It was just an outline at first, its movements weirdly unstable. When she emerged from behind the wall of water, Aliya seemed much unlike her usual self. Her dress was covered in dark red splatter, and her eyes had an unhealthy shine. There was blood dripping from her sleeves as she walked. Her hair was drenched. She had feasted on blood to the point of intoxication. Her movements were erratic. The water was splashing as she clumsily stepped into puddles. Her breath was shallow, chest heaving. She was in a drunken state of complete contentment. 

‘I’m sorry for the delay,’ she said, finally. ‘He was…’ She struggled to find the right words for a moment, and then seemed amused by the first, well-matching description that popped into her head. ‘Really eager!’ She repressed a laugh, and ran her hand through her hair, a diluted stream of red flowing down her arm. She stopped in front of them, and her enthusiasm clashed against their shocked silence. ‘Oh, what is that supposed to be?’ she asked, sounding both cheerful and slightly annoyed. ‘Your thoughts are _so loud_ , you might as well be speaking.’ Her head tilted, eyes looked a bit dazed. ‘Well, somebody has to do the dirty work so you can sit around feeling superior.’ 

Then she looked at Geralt. ‘Is that relief?’ she asked him, surprised. ‘It _almost_ feels like it.’ For a moment, she was focused on him, and then her eyes bulged in disbelief and she chuckled. ‘You…’ she started again. ‘You think I’ll be easier to kill this way. Bloody off my head. _Pathetic_? Really?’ Her hand shot up into the air, and she wagged her finger at him, clearly entertained by his thoughts. ‘At least thank me before you stab me in the back, Geralt. Please. I did this… well, mostly for pleasure, maybe to numb myself a bit. But also to even out the odds. I will give you a fighting chance. But don’t fucking fool yourself. Even if that works for you, I’m not an easy win. In fact…’ 

Something distracted her. She looked around for a moment, disoriented, and then her hand waved about in the air with pure frustration. ‘Geralt, do _something_ with Jaskier, please. That fucking despair radiating off him. It’s like a bad smell. It’s unbearable.’

Jaskier was still helping Lianna. His arm was around her waist, and her head was on his shoulder but his eyes were focused on Geralt. They were filled with nothing but sadness.

‘I want him _out_ ,’ Aliya spit out the last word with disdain. ‘Wasn’t that what you asked for? _Out_.’ She looked at Jaskier and pointed towards the gate. ‘It’s safe. You can go.’

‘Is it?’ Geralt wasn’t convinced.

‘There’s no one you can ask to make sure.’ She looked back at Jaskier. ‘Fuck off, please.’

‘Do you want me to just drop her to the ground?’ Jaskier aimed for angry but sounded upset instead. His hands were numb from the weight but he was not giving up. 

‘She can stand,’ Aliya said, confidently. ‘Can’t you, Lianna? You still have some life in you. I know you do.’ 

Lianna moved away from Jaskier, and managed to hold her balance, barely. 

‘She needs rest,’ Jaskier actually shouted at Aliya. He sounded surprisingly self-assured despite his voice wavering slightly.

Aliya looked confused for a moment, and blinked a few times. ‘You think I don’t know that?’

‘Let me take her with me.’ Jaskier was undeterred. ‘You don’t want her dead. I’m sure you…’

‘Is this _really_ about her?’ she asked, casually, completely unmoved by the sight of Lianna who was struggling to stay up as her feet started sinking into the mud.

‘Yes, it’s about her, too.’ Jaskier looked at Geralt. He was ready to speak but struggled to find the right words. He just stood there, shaking. 

Geralt’s face was motionless, determined and distant. ‘Jaskier, just go.’ His voice sounded cold, and it was a knife to Jaskier’s gut.

He frantically tried to find a reason to delay but his mind was blank. ‘I…’ he started, then hesitated.

Geralt motioned towards the gate. Aliya was becoming impatient.

Jaskier turned away from them, eyes watering. There were occasions in the past when he was forced to imagine saying goodbye to Geralt for the last time. There were many circumstances, words and feelings that ran through his head back then. The settings changed, Geralt’s response varied, and the possible reasons came and went. But in none of these scenarios, at any point, was the moment so mundane, stripped of all significance, simply happening as any other moment would. 

He blinked, and stared at Geralt, forcing himself to remember every detail. He was painfully aware this could be the last time he saw him alive. As much as he knew that, nothing could make him believe it. And everything felt normal, like looking at him always did. Nothing out of ordinary about Geralt in that moment. If Jaskier didn’t know him well, he wouldn’t have been able to see the repressed emotions boiling under the surface. There was not a single sign of finality anywhere to be found, no matter how hard he looked. And then he turned around despite himself and started to walk. 

‘Don’t you want to say goodbye?’ Aliya asked Geralt, her tone slightly mocking. ‘Last chance!’ He just looked at her with anger. ‘Oh, come on, Geralt! Come the fuck on! It’s not _that_ hard!’ She seemed really frustrated with her efforts bearing no results. After a short consideration, she lowered her voice and started to speak. ‘Jaskier, I wish I had the guts to fuck you when I still had the chance.’ Then her voice went higher, perhaps higher than it needed to. ‘Oh, Geralt… if only I knew you felt that way! I’ve been hoping, waiting for a sign. All this time! _All_ this time. And _now_ it’s too late.’

‘Aliya!’ Geralt was losing his patience. 

Her eyes went vacant for a moment as she turned towards Jaskier who stopped walking and looked back at her, just a hint of anger on his face. ‘Forget me,’ she said, suddenly. Her voice turned completely neutral, eyes closed. ‘Don’t write about this. Don’t sing about what I did. Stop that stupid nonsense of yours.’ Her mouth arched up in a smile. She exhaled loudly. She looked extremely focused, and proud as she was scouting through the innermost recesses of Geralt’s mind with clear effort. ‘It doesn’t make you happy,’ she continued with exertion, her eyes suddenly fixed on Jaskier. She was breaking through, a success she welcomed with a satisfied smirk. ‘I haven’t seen you happy in a long time. And it…’ She hesitated. ‘It hurts to know it’s because of me.’

Geralt was mortified as Aliya laid his deepest thoughts bare.

‘That’s _not_ even scratching the surface, though,’ she said to Jaskier, shaking her head, and pouting slightly. ‘His thoughts are pushing you away but the feelings and the images tell a different story. They float so freely. And it’s quite endearing, actually. Not what you’d expect.’

Geralt’s anger was obvious now. He took out his sword and moved towards her without hesitation. She found that funny, and backed away slowly. Her movements were effortlessly fluid again.

She evaded his first strike with ease. He missed by a mere centimeter. He knew she was purposely staying close enough for him to feel like he might be able to wound her, and far enough to make sure he couldn’t. ‘I _will_ kill him if he doesn’t go now,’ she stated simply, her eyes still on Geralt.

Geralt threw an angry look towards Jaskier and he looked back. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to respond to Aliya’s dive into Geralt’s mind. But he also respected Geralt’s decision to never say any of this out loud. And the wall of silence between them was there, untouched, even with Geralt’s words still ringing in Jaskier’s ears. 

Jaskier waited just a moment longer, in vain. 

And then he finally walked away, as instructed. His head was empty, his steps unsteady. The beating of his heart was so strong it hurt. 

***

They fought for a long time. 

Lianna followed them around like a ghost. Aliya was not interested in her at all. Her whole attention was on Geralt. The moment he noticed that, he started hoping he could help. ‘Lianna, _go_ ,’ he shouted towards her. ‘Get away! I’ll hold her off.’ But she just stared at him, and stood there, indifferent. 

Even dazed by the blood she drank, Aliya was fast and relentless. Once evading the cuts of Geralt’s sword began to bore her, she led him away from the hill and towards the public square they saw from above. 

She picked up a sword from the rigid hand of one of the soldiers she had killed. It took no effort for her to break his stiff fingers with a gruesome snap. 

Her eyes instantly found Geralt’s again and she bared her sharp teeth in a vicious smile. She circled him, slow and determined, still weighing the weapon in her hand.

Something told him that, despite her unwavering confidence, she was genuinely impressed with what he could do. It seemed like, for her, this was not as much a fight as a means to satisfy her curiosity. She kept changing the tempo, shifting the rhythm, intensifying her attacks in sudden bursts, and testing his reflexes. 

They moved towards and away from each other in a grotesque dance. His attempts to reach her were proving futile and increasingly hopeless. 

It went on and on. Geralt was starting to feel tired. 

The pouring rain turned the ground under their feet into a slippery mess and he had to fight to keep his balance. His clothes clung to him, hair falling in his face, wet and annoying as fuck. He swore to himself, and as he pushed a strand out of his eyes, he realised he was just as sweaty as he was soaked with rain. 

It felt like failure. And yet, there was barely a scratch on him. She was much more eager to show him she could overpower him than to cause him pain. Somehow, any cut or bruise would have been easier for him to handle than knowing that he was simply being toyed with.

It was infuriating.

He gave it a last push, attacking with even more speed and ferocity. 

She moved back, swiftly. ‘Easy, easy,’ she said, and her hands swayed in a soothing gesture. She sounded as if she was speaking to an animal.

He noticed she was breathing harder and, this time, couldn’t tell if it was excitement or fatigue. 

‘Let’s try this again,’ she muttered, while slowing down her movements. She raised her sword, and approached him, getting closer, bit by bit.

He did the same. Then, he took a light step to the right, and saw her repeat the movement. It was a perfect mirror image, her footwork synchronised with his as if it was a dance they both knew the steps to. 

He planned the strike, a quick flip and a swift, diagonal cut with the sword. His muscles were tense, and ready for the complex set of maneuvers, each gesture carefully designed. It took him a split second but time dragged on in his mind. 

The moment he was prepared, he saw her turn and heard the hiss of her sword cutting through the air. He barely managed to deflect, surprised, not by her attack but by the fact that she followed the exact sequence of movements he planned in his head.

She smiled and he, as obvious as it ultimately was, realised what this meant. Almost to his own surprise, he felt his body respond. There was a hot wave of fear radiating from his lungs. His throat contracted as he swallowed, shocked. It took all his self-control to shake it off. He focused again.

But she saw it, of course. More than that, she felt it. There was nowhere to hide.

Playing out the fight at one third the speed, he saw her anticipating his every move. She was ready to counter before he could act. It was obvious why, even at his best, he was lagging a few seconds behind. His defeat appeared inevitable. Every moment he persisted was just a delay. 

He took a deep breath to calm himself down, and tried to clear his head.

And then he attacked her. He didn’t plan a thing. There was no strategy, just pure anger and uninhibited speed. His mind became empty for once.

His sword cut across her collarbone, unsettling them both. 

At first she was confused. She touched the cut as if she didn’t expect it there. Then she looked up, straight into his eyes. Somehow, she seemed more proud of him than hurt by what he did.

He couldn’t dwell on that. This was the perfect time to overpower her. His blade cut through the air in pure frenzy, and it took all of her strength to push back. 

But, to his dismay, her wound had little to no impact. She was already regaining her focus and composure. If she was still less ferocious, it was through choice. It was becoming obvious she was just entertaining herself. She smiled as he managed to swing his sword close to her face. The glimmer of silver reflected in her eyes. She was becoming sloppy to keep the fight going longer, risking more. His growing tiredness was more obvious to her than it was to him. 

He reevaluated his chances, and didn’t like his conclusions. His arms were becoming heavy, breathing strained. His heart was racing faster than ever. He felt a bit light-headed, and was finding it difficult to remain focused. His body was already fully aware he was about to die, and his mind was only slowly catching up to that realisation. 

At the same time, the weather was deteriorating. Fierce gusts of wind, piercing and freezing cold, were pushing against them. The rain was cutting sharp. The outlines of the houses around them were slowly disappearing behind a wall of water. It left just the two of them circling around the empty square as if it were a stage. 

Feeling death creeping up to him slowly, Geralt thought about Jaskier. He imagined him riding away to safety, the sound of Roach trotting on a brick road. He made himself believe what they did was effective. In his vision, Jaskier was effortlessly slipping away unharmed. The cruelty of war was melting away into oblivion right behind him. 

Geralt thought about him singing dramatic songs which would make the mighty witcher’s pathetic death at the hands of an obviously stronger opponent seem heroic and impressive. For once, he didn’t mind the bullshit. He pictured people listening, enthralled. There was not a single note of sadness in Jaskier’s voice, just nostalgia, and affection. No pain. There was a little fireplace radiating comfortable heat behind him. 

And Geralt was better this way. Better as a memory than he was alive.

Suddenly he felt calm again. He focused on the feeling, and stepped back. He moved further and further away from Aliya.

That seemed to puzzle her. She didn’t follow right away, and took a moment to catch her breath. Her mind was filled with the warmth of his daydream. She flinched. The rain was growing stronger. There was water pouring into her eyes. The wind was relentless. Then she realised what he had done, and lunged forward but it was too late. 

He already grabbed Lianna. His blade was on her throat. His chest was heaving but his heartbeat was already slowing down. 

‘You sneaky, fucking bastard,’ she said with clear admiration in her voice. ‘A _great_ try. But you would _never_ …’

‘Why not? Isn’t she dead either way?’ He looked at Aliya and assessed the distance between them, breathy, but confident. ‘You can move fast, but not _that_ fast. We both know that.’

Aliya took a single step and Geralt moved the blade closer to Lianna’s neck. He broke her skin. She whimpered, and Aliya stopped, flinching as if she felt it herself. 

‘Ah.’ He smiled, relieved, and nodded lightly. ‘This is different.’ 

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ 

‘Me?’ He coughed, trying to clear his throat. ‘You tell me. How is she still alive?’ 

She didn’t respond, just stared at him blankly.

‘Don’t play dumb for me now.’ He pulled Lianna closer, and she didn’t resist at all. ‘In the morning she couldn’t feel her hands. Her skin was fucking transparent. Did she have _any_ blood left?’ Waiting for Aliya to respond seemed pointless. ‘I’ve never seen anybody survive that. And yet she’s standing on her own fucking feet, right now.’

Aliya was actually a bit uneasy, confused. Her hair was sticking to her skull, the wet dress glued to her body.

‘And you are scared shitless.’ He smiled. ‘Now, Aliya…’ Geralt stared at her intently. ‘You tell Lianna what you told me. I want to know where we stand. If you lie, I’ll cut her fucking throat. And I’ll keep at it until I hit the spine.’

She hesitated before responding, clearly unsettled both by the threat and what it implied. ‘I said…’ she turned to Lianna, sounding almost shy ‘… that I wanted to kill you last night. I implied you are disposable, replaceable, running out of time.’ 

‘You _wouldn’t,_ ’ Lianna seemed outraged. Geralt noted her voice sounded forceful, some repressed anger boiling underneath, not a single sign of her weakness he could notice. ‘Why?’

‘Didn’t you tell Jaskier you’re done with me?’ Aliya’s worry was turning into anger.

‘Yes, but I wanted…’ Lianna started but Aliya didn’t let her finish.

‘Yes, sure, you _wanted_. But it didn’t get you far, did it? You’ve put a little bit too much heart into it.’

‘I just needed a little bit more time. I told you, just a day or two. It’s not like I _meant_ what I said to him.’

‘Just a few days? I do wonder how we’re supposed to gain a few days now.’ 

‘This is not _my_ fault.’ Lianna seemed outraged by the suggestion.

‘Is it mine?’

Lianna pouted a bit and seemed to genuinely consider the question. ‘All, I’m saying is… Let’s at least try. Could we?’

‘Are you sure? Because what you said to Jaskier sounded pretty convincing to me. It was a bit _much_. A bit overbearing.’

‘Stop it!’

‘It’s none of their business how we actually feel, is it?’ Aliya considered it for a moment. ‘All that whining. I got scared… _so scared_.’ She repeated Lianna’s words, her tone beyond mocking. ‘Do you think that’s attractive? Or did you grow soft all a sudden?’ She didn’t expect an answer. ‘Please, fucking, _please_.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘Sometimes I almost feel sorry for you.’

‘Don’t you... fucking... dare!’ There was pure fury in Lianna’s voice, a surprise to Geralt.

‘Why not? You act like it’s all about you. So fucking self-centred. Do you think I didn’t know how serious it was? If things go wrong, I’m the one who stays behind!’

Lianna seemed disoriented for a second, and then smiled, as if hearing the words made her happy somehow. She turned away for a moment, took a few deep breaths and the glimmer of anger was back in her eyes. ‘Big deal, Aliya! You won’t even remember me in a couple of lifetimes,’ she shouted, no longer struggling with Geralt.

‘So you think this is easy for me?’ There was a bit of softness creeping into Aliya’s voice for the first time. 

‘I don’t care if it is! Am I supposed to believe you’re going to keep me alive for much longer?’ Lianna was getting angrier and angrier. ‘Even if I believed you… What happens when you get bored with me? When I’m old, or get hurt? When you don’t want me anymore? Would you just let me go?’

‘Why would I? So you can marry a man you don’t love, get sick or killed, get raped by a random soldier during an attack _like this_? You would exist just to be thrown around by forces completely beyond your control. You would slowly fall apart like they all do.’ Her heated tone was turning gentler again. ‘I don’t want that for you.’

‘What about what _I_ want?’

‘What you want is impossible.’

‘You don’t get to decide for me.’

‘Since when?’

Lianna blinked a few times, disconcerted by that response. ‘I can’t stay around knowing you would… I can’t. I can’t just wait. I’m not ready to…’ 

‘You’ll never be ready. That’s what being human is all about.’ 

‘You know _nothing_ about being human.’ Lianna pushed forwards as if she wanted to attack Aliya with her bare hands. ‘You’ve never known what it means to live, _actually_ live. You can _never_ understand. You’ve only ever been an observer. And people are just _toys_ to you. All of this is a fucking game. Well, it’s not like that for me.’ 

Lianna kept trying to move towards her, furious and upset, but Geralt held her in place. ‘I exist just to raise your blood pressure for a while, to make you _feel_ something,’ Lianna continued with growing desperation. ‘Because you’re _so_ bored of living with no stakes. You go harder and harder and stretch me too thin… always pushing for a breaking point. This _is_ what you want. So tired of feeling like nothing matters. So used to looking at the world just unfolding in front of your eyes. You eat up my emotions, every bit of fear, love and anger I’ve ever felt. It’s not blood you need from me… it’s humanity.’ 

‘Lianna…’

‘Well, better hope he _does_ cut my fucking throat. That would keep your emotions running high for a while! This… this whole fucking mess only means something to you, because it means something to me. You are _nothing_ without me.’

Aliya walked a bit closer to her, hurt by her words.

But Lianna just shook her head. ‘Fuck you, Aliya. Either kill me or leave me alone.’ She shook off Geralt’s hand and this time he let her. 

It was done. 

For a moment, none of them was ready to speak. The sound of the rain was loud in their ears. 

‘If that’s how you feel…’ Aliya started, her tone so excessively cold, it rang false. ‘Sure, go. I hope you survive the war and get really fucking old. You and Jaskier can have your happy ever after, whatever the fuck that means. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. You can even have a baby. Long live a grateful, little housewife.’ She suppressed a chuckle.

She motioned her to go. The gate was open, her arm extended in an encouraging gesture. Lianna walked, and raised her head high in her best attempt to look confident. But Aliya’s eyes followed her every move calmly, not worried at all. And suddenly, just as she suspected, Lianna stopped.

Geralt stared in disbelief.

‘Really?’ She turned back towards Aliya. ‘You would let me go… just like that?’ Lianna’s voice was filled with doubt, her eyes glazing over. 

‘Just like that.’ Aliya responded, casually, perfectly calm. 

And Lianna just stood there, unwilling to leave, unsettled and confused. ‘But that’s just not true, is it?’ 

‘I guess you're about to find out.’

Lianna exhaled sharply, eyes watering. ‘All I’m asking is…’ she started but then realised it was hopeless. ‘You’re sick, Aliya. You are _sick_.’ She was shaking lightly, a mix of anger and helplessness in her voice. 

‘And what about you? Are you any better?’ She sounded concerned but her eyes were smiling. ‘The truth is…’ Aliya came closer, grabbed a strand of Lianna’s hair, and pulled. It was gentle at first but persistent and Lianna was forced to tilt her head. ‘You,’ she whispered viciously while pulling harder, ‘don’t decide what I do. And we both know that’s a good thing.’ She let go and smiled. ‘I’m going to focus on Geralt now, and then we’ll see how I feel, hm?’

***

The rain was slowing down, light breaking through the clouds, and the feel of the place shifted.

The moment Geralt saw Aliya approaching him again, he threw his sword to the ground. It fell with a loud splash and a clang. He did his best to make it look casual. 

She was not discouraged. She picked it up and handed it back to him. ‘Defend yourself, Geralt.’

‘No’ He shook his head, and smiled. ‘If you really want to do this, you have to slaughter me like a pig.’

She grinned and nodded, then looked away from him, amused. ‘Nice, really nice.’ She looked back at him with pure appreciation. ‘I wish I could keep you. Such a shame you’re gay.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Yes, sure.’ She came closer, looking intrigued. ‘You fought so bravely so far. So good, it really looked like you had a chance. Or at least it would have looked like that, from a distance, to someone who doesn’t know any better.’ She put special emphasis on the last words, observing him closely. ‘It won’t look like it now.’

She dropped the sword, and pushed him with all her strength. 

He didn’t resist, and kept moving back until he hit the breaking wheel behind him. ‘Aliya… are you fucking serious?’

She had no intention to pull him up on it, though. Instead, she grabbed one of the pieces of rope hanging down and began to tie his hands to it. He was starting to feel like it was a bad joke and made a weak attempt to shake her off, but his every movement was met with resistance the moment he thought about it.

There was no hesitation. It was no longer a game, no leeway, no play. She was just performing a job and made sure it felt like it. 

As soon as he pushed against her, she hit him the first time. A quick blow to the face and his world turned red. Even knowing what she was, the force came as a surprise. It took his breath away, his head swimming, a bitter taste in his mouth, then a metallic one. 

When he regained his vision she was staring back at him, not happy with what she had done, his hands already firmly tied down. There was a drop of blood rolling from the corner of his mouth.

She moved forwards, almost involuntarily, then stopped, a little embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and it sounded like she meant it. ‘Getting a bit carried away here.’ She took a deep breath and chuckled. ‘Fine, I’m fine.’

She pulled a knife from her belt, and Geralt was forced to admit that, of course, counting on her good will was just a last resort, not a real chance. 

‘See…’ she started, suddenly perfectly casual again. ‘I could gut you. Only I feel like that’s not _the_ thing that would make you squeal.’ She shook her head. ‘In fact, sadly, I can’t accomplish that all on my own. I wonder who could help me.’ 

Geralt was confused but her words managed to fill him with dread regardless. And then it started to add up in his mind, slowly, as disoriented as he was, his thoughts still muddled. The answer was right there. He looked around, eyes wild. And he thought about Jaskier again, genuinely this time. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what she saw. His mind was his own again but the vision was blurry, unwilling to return to him.

He tried to picture Jaskier leaving again and couldn’t. He forced himself to visualise the moment as if that could change what he already knew. The music had stopped. There was no one to tell the tale. The chairs were empty, the fireplace cold. They were both gone.

She smiled in response. ‘Yes, exactly. From all the way back, at the gate,’ she continued, ‘this looks exactly like what this is. You… hurt, just about ready to die.’

She lifted the knife and pressed it against his neck. As he gasped for air, he looked up and saw Jaskier running towards them, already out of breath, terrified by what he saw. Geralt’s heart sank and fear made his mouth run dry. The moment dragged on and Aliya feasted on his anxiety as if it tasted like a fresh gulp of blood. 

Jaskier had no fucking clue what he was getting himsef into. 

And while Geralt saw a purpose to everything he did before, it was all slowly draining away from him now. He had accomplished nothing.

‘Aliya, please,’ Jaskier shouted, and paused, now approaching them slowly as if worried that any quicker movement might provoke her. ‘Please, don’t. I beg you.’

‘Jaskier, what the… _fuck_ are you doing?’ Geralt’s voice broke mid sentence, surprising them both. He struggled, and pulled on the ropes desperately, knowing it was hopeless.

‘He thinks dying here, dramatically, for mine and Lianna’s sakes is the best he can offer. He thinks all he _should_ do is keep me alive… but that’s not right,’ Jaskier continued, and shook his head while looking at Geralt, determined. He was in his top performance mode, borderline rehearsed, confident.

‘Aliya, don’t pay attention to him,’ Geralt kept pleading, but Aliya was staring at Jaskier, still and attentive. ‘This is between you and me. He has nothing…’

‘He doesn’t see a future for himself,’ Jaskier kept going, completely ignoring Geralt’s efforts. ‘But just because he has no respect for his own life, doesn’t mean…’ 

‘Shut up! You fucking idiot. Just shut up and leave while you can.’ 

‘See that? He’s just too bloody heroic for his own good.’ Geralt’s growing anger was upsetting to him but he managed to remain relatively calm. ‘He’s not thinking about what his death would do to me, at all. But it’s not because he doesn’t care. It’s because he can’t possibly imagine…’

‘Jaskier…’ Geralt was slowly losing his last shreds of hope.

‘But I’m sure you can understand.’ Jaskier was focused on Aliya. ‘In the long run it makes no difference to you. I know that. It makes a world of difference to me if you let him live.’ 

‘For fuck’s sake, Jaskier. Stick to _singing_ … and _bullshit_ … and _whoring around_ …’ Geralt was furious. ‘Your nonsense will get us _both_ killed.’ 

‘He’s not used to people trying to take care of him. Maybe I can’t change that. But someone should keep trying.’ 

‘Aliya!’ Geralt was trying to get her attention. ‘Aliya! You got me. Whatever the fuck you were trying to prove… you were right. Now just _leave him alone_.’

‘This is him giving all he has, for others,’ Jaskier continued. ‘You must respect that, at least a little. He’s the most remarkable, the bravest and strongest person I have ever met.’ His voice was beginning to break. ‘And… he still has many more years in him than I will ever have.’

Geralt looked shocked, slowly realising where this was going.

‘Some would say he’s hardly an obvious subject for love ballads.’ Jaskier motioned towards Geralt, avoiding his eyes. ‘But I have written quite a few.’ He smiled shyly and faintly. ‘And I love him so very much.’ He looked straight at Geralt, almost apologetically, soft tones in his voice. ‘Not that he would ever… Yes, _well_ … ehm… Not really one for romance, is he?’ He laughed lightly and then inhaled some air sharply, seemingly forgetting where he was for a split second. 

‘So…’ he continued, sounding weirdly resolved ‘…you either kill me instead or let both of us go because I will _not_ sit back and watch him die.’ 

Geralt didn’t say a word, just stared at Jaskier as if he was seeing him for the first time. 

‘Please.’ Jaskier was making the last push. ‘Please, Aliya… for my sake, if not his.’

To Geralt’s surprise Aliya lowered her knife, put it away, and slowly turned away from him. She moved swiftly, picking the sword back up on her way, and faced Jaskier. 

She looked intrigued. He just stood there. 

Geralt strained forwards but the rope was strong. He pushed and pulled frantically, all in vain. 

She placed the tip of the sword on Jaskier’s neck and smiled. ‘And why would you do this?’ she asked him and waited, but he didn’t respond. ‘It’s a serious question,’ Aliya kept pressing on. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you, Jaskier? Are you still _hoping_ for something?’

He looked at her, and slowly realised Geralt’s assessment of the situation was not entirely accurate. It was possible - likely, in fact - her supposed care about his feelings would not stop her from chopping his head off. It was also likely Geralt was wrong when he said Aliya didn’t _really_ want them dead. 

That surprised him, and the panic set in. 

‘Answer me,’ she continued. ‘What is it about him? Is this a man who is going to carefully read between the lines of your intrinsically crafted poems? Is he? Is he _desperately_ looking for subtext? Does it keep him up at night?’

‘Aliya, _please_ leave him alone.’ Geralt tried threatening but sounded hurt instead. His skin was breaking, his wrists already bleeding. The wheel rocked behind him, pulling him back and forth as he fought to free himself, but the rope wouldn’t yield. 

‘No,’ she was not giving up. ‘I want to know. I don’t think I quite understand. It’s a lot of years invested. A lot of heartbreak. And now this…’ She raised her hands, and then dropped them with a shrug. ‘Are you really going to die for someone who is incapable of giving you what you want? Are you even able to move on from this? It’s a bit…’

‘Pathetic? Sad? Is that what you’re trying to say?’ Jaskier spoke up, finally. His voice sounded hoarse.

‘Desperate.’ She smiled. ‘How many times does he have to push you away until you get the message? Or are you going to permanently look for the smallest sign, any fucking breadcrumb you can lick off the floor?’ Her voice was growing louder and her manner more aggressive. ‘What is it about all the times he didn’t… that makes you believe one day he will? What is it?’

‘What do you want me to say?’ Jaskier’s fear was turning into anger. ‘He doesn’t _owe_ me anything.’ 

‘Your whole life, Jaskier. You beg for applause, love and validation. It’s an insatiable hunger of some kind. You can’t even make a dent, no matter how hard you try. And yet, you chase after a man who is determined to offer you exactly none of these things. One has to wonder.’

He looked away from her for a moment, thinking, then turned back and smiled. It was a nervous but a determined expression. His breath grew deeper, demeanor changed. ‘You can’t do this to me.’ He couldn’t repress a triumphant smirk. ‘Because I don’t care what you think. I’m not insecure… or ashamed. I’m not _confused_. I know how I feel. And I know what I want. All I _can_ do is try my best. That’s all _anyone_ can ever do. And I don’t regret a single… fucking… thing.’ His voice was growing stronger with every word. ‘I sure as fuck don’t think any of my time with him has _ever_ been wasted. How could I? How bloody could I? And I’d do _anything_ for more.’

Suddenly it seemed like it was Aliya who was on the defensive, his words affecting her more than he anticipated.

‘If you think,’ he continued, ‘this in any way was made smaller or insignificant because we never…’ He stopped, more for Geralt’s sake than his own. ‘Such bloody, reductive, fucking nonsense,’ he muttered under his breath, exasperated, and stared at the ground. 

He wondered about it for a second and then looked up, intrigued. ‘Was _that_ what got you so interested?’ he asked her, fascinated by the idea. ‘Did all this happen just because I’m attracted to him?’ He seemed to find this both likely and ridiculous. ‘Well, who fucking isn’t?’ he asked with a kind of pride. ‘You _certainly_ are.’ 

The realisation made him hopeful. ‘You don’t want him dead,’ he said with great confidence. ‘And I _am_ happy with him. It doesn’t matter if…’ Suddenly he seemed rattled again, and it took some effort to get himself back on track. ‘I’m not… It should be clear… You should…’ He stopped. ‘What kind of world do you live in, Aliya?’ Because where I stand, the only thing that’s wrong with us is you.’ 

He was breathing hard, and throwing glances at Geralt whose struggle looked increasingly desperate.

They needed more time and Jaskier knew he had to keep her talking. ‘Please,’ he started again, softer now, ‘let us go. You have nothing to gain from this, nothing.’

‘No, I think we’re both proving a point here.’ She looked relatively at ease again. ‘Perhaps you already did. But maybe it needs one last push. Don’t you think this is a good moment for you to die?’ She moved closer to him, and her voice turned into a whisper. ‘He will have a very long and lonely life. One filled to the brim with guilt and regret, thanks to you. But at least he’d finally get it, right?’ She sneered. ‘And you’ll be glad to know, the idea terrifies him beyond belief. Nothing worse for him than seeing you barge in like that without thinking. You seem to be missing what you understood about saving somebody’s life like this before. It’s selfish.’

Jaskier shook his head in disagreement. He was growing more and more distressed, barely holding himself together, but was determined not to let her get into his head.

‘Well, fine, then. If it’s not selfish, then let’s give it a go,’ she sounded conciliatory.

It was getting harder and harder for him to breathe, and he felt sick. He closed his eyes, hoping against reason she would not strike. It was obvious she was going to.

She started swinging the sword in front of him, forcing him to open his eyes again, her every movement raising his pulse. It was entertaining enough to keep her occupied for a while.

At that moment, Geralt’s hands, covered in blood, wrists stretched to the point of breaking, managed to slip out of the rope.

Aliya noticed. 

He raced forward as she raised her sword, much higher this time. She was more than ready to deal the fatal blow. 

It was clear to all of them that the distance was too great. There was nothing he could do. 

The blade cut through the air. Jaskier held his breath, and looked straight at Geralt who froze in place, looking back at him. 

None of it felt real. 

Jaskier looked determined and mustered a sad smile somehow. It was Geralt who was terrified. 

Within a split second, Geralt’s mind was filled with a storm of emotions and images. He could feel the impact of Jaskier’s death as if it already had happened. The idea of Jaskier’s body split, growing cold, everything he is and was evaporating, the fear and pain that came with that, hit him all at once.

But as he stared, stunned, the sword slipped out of Aliya’s hand, and fell to the ground with a clang. Her eyes suddenly glazed over and turned empty. She let out a surprised gasp. The tip of Geralt’s silver sword emerged from her chest. She turned around to face Lianna who just let go of the handle, clearly shocked by what she did. 

Aliya was disoriented at first, and stared at her in total bewilderment. Her face was distorted, the shock of the betrayal mixed with the sharp pain of the silver cutting through her flesh. She held out her hand as if wanting Lianna to support her as she fell to her knees. 

Lianna walked towards her, speechless. She dropped down behind her. Her hands grasped the sword and pulled, unsuccessful at first, the blade still buried in Aliya’s back. Aliya fell forwards repressing a scream, and Lianna stared in horror. She tried again, and the sword finally came free, blood gushing from the wound. 

Lianna crawled around Aliya, tears streaming down her face as she pulled her into a tight embrace. She pressed herself against her as if she was trying to slow down the bleeding. Her dress was quickly turning red. All her attempts to make it stop were futile. ‘I’m sorry,’ Lianna kept repeating mindlessly. ‘I’m so sorry.’ 

Aliya pulled away and looked at Lianna with a genuine mix of sadness and love. She pushed her blond hair away from her face, smearing the blood on her cheek. Her eyes were affectionate and sharp despite the pain. She was taking in the sight of Lianna’s face as if she was purposely making a memory. 

She then grabbed her short knife and stabbed Lianna straight in the stomach with all her remaining force. 

Lianna gasped, and then began to laugh. ‘Fuck.’ She couldn’t stop laughing. ‘Sorry. Fuck, _so sorry_. I _really_ didn’t expect you to do that.’

‘Oh gods!’ Aliya joined into the laughter. ‘It got _so_ dramatic!’ She seemed to find that truly hilarious. ‘I mean, so fucking trite, nearly kitschy, but _the drama_! So intense!’

‘ _I know_!’ Lianna sounded really excited. ‘You really got carried away.’ She pushed one of her fingers into the wound as if she was still surprised it was there. ‘Fuck me… That’s just…’ She was struggling to find the right words. ‘We did _so_ much better than the last time!’ 

She turned to Jaskier who remained motionless, standing there in a clear shock. ‘Oh, stop looking at us like that! We would _never_ hurt you.’ Lianna smiled at him, reassuringly. ‘It’s fine to rough up Geralt a bit. He can take it. But we would _never_. I mean, who in their right mind would?’ She looked at him and, to his astonishment, started to clap. ‘Be proud! That was so impressive! I loved every minute of it.’ 

‘You’re biased, Lianna. Give some credit to Geralt. He tried so hard to save your life. Not to even mention his.’ Aliya motioned towards Jaskier and looked at Geralt with approval. ‘That was _something_.’

‘It’s like the two of you were trying to outbid each other.’ Lianna chuckled at her own joke. 

Geralt ignored her and walked towards Jaskier who was slowly breaking down under a mix of relief and stress, still confused by what just happened. All his bravery swiftly melted away, and left him bare. The delayed realisation of the danger he faced was taking him apart little by little. He was desperately trying to take a deeper breath but struggled, helpless, a lonely figure hyperventilating in the middle of an empty square. 

Geralt grabbed him, and hugged him. He held him close. It was a polar opposite of the previous embrace they shared. It surprised him how glad and thankful, to destiny or whatever-the-fuck, he was to be able to do it. For a while, Jaskier being alive was the only thing he could focus on. His skin was warm. Geralt could hear his heartbeat so clearly. The sound echoed in his mind, and resonated through his ribcage. He had never been happier to feel that desperate drumbeat pulsating against his chest. Each breath was pushing him away, then pulling him back in. Jaskier’s face was wet with rain, sweat, and tears. 

Geralt brushed his cheek against Jaskier’s hair, barely realising what he was doing. He was determined to get as close to him as he could, mindless and relieved. What he did realise, however, was that he was not only helping Jaskier through the moment. He needed it just as much, just to feel him there, a precious collection of undeniable, physical evidence that they were both fine, out of danger, safe, in the same place and time. 

Geralt felt like whispering something reassuring or admitting something he normally wouldn’t. But he didn’t say a word, just squeezed him harder, too busy experiencing an echo of comfort he only remembered from his dreams. 

‘So Lianna is a vampire too,’ Jaskier said quietly, still gasping for air but a bit calmer now.

Geralt nodded, not letting go. The embrace was a bit too tight for Jaskier but he would never contemplate complaining. 

He put his head on Geralt’s shoulder, forgot where he was for a second, and smiled, comforted. 

‘I’m sorry we upset you so.’ Aliya seemed to be finding their embrace quite endearing. She tried but couldn’t stop herself from commenting. ‘You really made him work for this hug, though, didn’t you?’ She found it funny but laughing did her no favours. For a moment, she was struggling to breathe. Her cough was wet. One of her lungs was pierced. 

‘We didn’t really mean to go this far,’ Aliya continued, wheezing slightly. ‘It’s just that after a couple of centuries… you do try to shake things up a bit, and you two… you were just _fantastic_. We had to improvise all the time. Sometimes there was no chance to consult. And you are both so likable. It was getting tough. Such luck to just run across you like that!’ 

‘Oh, yes, definitely.’ Lianna joined in. ‘I saw potential right away. There was so much boiling under the surface when you arrived. We couldn’t resist.’ 

‘Normally, you squeeze people just a little and they break down in pretty boring ways.’ Aliya added while wiping blood off her chin, clearly frustrated with their previous experiences. ‘But you two _bloom_ under pressure, don’t you?’

‘Was all of it a lie?’ Jaskier asked, quietly. His voice sounded frail.

‘Some of it did cut quite close to the bone, to be honest, didn’t it?’ she asked Lianna, an odd mix of curiosity, excitement and pain in her voice.

‘Yes, some of it… I really felt it.’

‘We made a bet,’ Aliya started, and hesitated a bit, but then decided to continue. ‘I said you two would fuck before we part ways. Lianna said she could break you up.’ 

Lianna just nodded, enthusiastically. 

‘She clearly overestimated her seductive abilities,’ Aliya added while serving Lianna a vicious smile. ‘She enjoys being feminine, helpless, hurt, dumb, and ephemeral a bit too much.’ Lianna blinked nervously, looking slightly offended. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s in bad taste. And it can get dangerous. Although it was _relatively_ effective.’ She tried to sound comforting but failed.

‘Dangerous? You’re the one who made it so.’

‘I just got a little too into it.’ Aliya shrugged her shoulders.

‘A little?’ Lianna’s eyes grew bigger. ‘You sucked me dry! And now you’re saying it’s my fault I was too fragile? I wasn’t fragile enough! Geralt clearly didn’t buy it’. She was getting angry again. ‘I’m so fucking sorry for enjoying being feminine. Stereotypical? Maybe. But what makes you so much better? Dark skinned _and_ evil? What the fuck are you implying, then?’

‘What I do says nothing about anybody beyond myself.’

‘If that’s so then why do you criticise me?’

Aliya ignored her but couldn’t stop thinking about it. ‘We do try,’ she added, finally. She seemed to have been justifying herself to Geralt and Jaskier now, which they clearly did not appreciate. ‘We switch roles sometimes. But, you know… In a way, that makes it worse. Much worse.’ The idea was making her uncomfortable.

‘You never put any fucking effort into it.’ Lianna raised her voice, sounding aggressive and Aliya looked surprised by the outburst. ‘You’re all smug and comfortable because you basically get to be yourself… but bigger. You indulge in some fucked up power fantasy. There should be a name for that role you’re playing.’

‘This? Really? Do you think I’m fucked up enough for _this_ to be my fantasy?’

‘Yes. Gods, yes. If not more than that. I think you might still be holding back from time to time.’

Aliya shook her head.

‘You’re just being lazy,’ Lianna started again. ‘But me? I try so hard!’ She pointed at Jaskier accusingly while staring at Aliya with clear anger. ‘Do you know how much I wanted him? And yet, not a single fucking drop. Not even a scratch. I could feel his blood pumping the _whole_ time. I pushed my tongue so far down his fucking throat he nearly gagged. And I managed, regardless. He had _no clue_ what I was until now.’

‘Sure, fine. You have a bit more self-restraint.’

‘A _bit_ more? You have _none_!’ 

Aliya, who was clearly still dazed from the blood she drank when killing the soldiers, and with every inch of her dress covered in red, looked ashamed. She stared down. There was something shy and childish about her, a glimpse of her real self perhaps. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ she started, softly. ‘This is really not the time to…’ 

‘No, and yet you find it so easy to bitch about _my_ shortcomings.’ 

‘Are you really that surprised I’m not happy about this? We fucked up! The double homicide was not helpful.’ She hesitated. ‘And yes, I’m guilty too.’ She looked back at Lianna, conflicted. ‘You almost gave it away, though. You should have either played dead or waited until you were well enough. Running to Jaskier was a _terrible_ idea. That’s what got us here.’

‘Oh, _that’s_ what did it?’ Lianna’s eyes narrowed.

Aliya ignored that, slightly nervous. ‘Also, no normal person would be fast enough to attack me from behind, let alone pierce me all the way through with a fucking sword.’ 

Lianna was just about to disagree. 

‘Although,’ Aliya added quickly, ‘yes, there was no other option.’ She smiled at Lianna, trying to reconcile but couldn’t stop herself. ‘I’d still say I won.’ She took another look at Geralt and Jaskier. ‘Definitely leaning towards fucking, I’d say.’

‘Yes, definitely.’ Lianna stated confidently. ‘But it’s not a full win.’ 

‘No, believe me, I know,’ Aliya admitted with regret, ‘and what a waste. So close too. Brushing against loss is _the best_ aphrodisiac.’

‘Too late for that, unfortunately. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to kill you. Would just a push be enough? Or if I asked you to let Jaskier go?’ Lianna thought about it for a second. ‘But then, Geralt had us all figured out anyway.’ She didn’t appreciate her own conclusions. ‘We honestly had no means to drag it on for much longer.’ She suddenly realised something. ‘We _did_ get defeated, didn’t we?’ 

Lianna seemed surprised. She was still running through different scenarios in her head. 

‘We could have just killed them, of course,’ Aliya added, reassuringly.

‘Yes, sure. But that wasn't the point, was it?’ 

Lianna was a bit confused about that. She looked up at them both. 

Geralt and Jaskier looked back at her, their eyes filled with disbelief. 

‘Fuck it.’ She waved her hand about as if she was shooing them away, and turned back to Aliya. ‘I’ll just give you this one.’ Lianna smiled, and felt exceedingly generous. ‘Let’s say you won.’ She turned to them. ‘Does that seem fair?’

Neither Geralt nor Jaskier felt like responding. Geralt was, in fact, pissed. He let go of Jaskier and looked at Aliya with pure fury.

‘Time to go,’ she said, gently tapping Lianna’s shoulder. 

Lianna nodded but was not in a hurry. She almost finished tying a scarf around her waist to stop the bleeding. She looked up and smiled at Jaskier one last time, then turned to take Aliya’s hand, and off the two of them went, still rehashing their performance. They disappeared between the trees.

As their voices faded, Geralt and Jaskier stood there, stunned. It was getting dark, and rain was coming again. They could easily cross the border now. There was nobody left alive to stop them. 

‘If this was real...’ Jasker started but didn’t even want to imagine. He was still struggling to maintain his composure.

Geralt looked rather embarrassed, as if he was personally responsible for everything that had happened. ‘But it wasn’t,’ he tried to sound reassuring. ‘What you did was…’ he started but got stuck almost instantly. It annoyed him to realise the only word he could think of was _stupid_. 

‘You knew all along the silver wouldn’t have worked. Isn’t that right?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘No, it really doesn’t.’ Jaskier was in no mood for a fight.

They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.

‘But…’ Geralt started again, ‘one vampire really can kill another. And they couldn’t have faked all of it.’ 

‘What?’ Jaskier was genuinely surprised. ‘But that would mean…’

Geralt just nodded in response.

‘No, Aliya couldn’t have actually… and Lianna couldn’t have risked…’

‘I’m not so sure.’

‘They wouldn’t, though, right?’ Jaskier seemed confused. ‘It was just a game to them.’

‘I never said it wasn’t.’

Geralt was impatient to get them out of there. They walked ahead to the gate, approaching the bodies Aliya had left behind. 

Jaskier stopped suddenly. His eyes were fixed on a young soldier whose neck was split open. His face was smashed, and his blond hair was covered in drying blood. The metallic smell was still fresh and overwhelming.

‘Eyes up, Jaskier, eyes up.’ Geralt came closer. ‘The last thing we need is…’ 

But it was too late. Jaskier bent down and vomited, grabbing Geralt’s arm to hold himself up. 

Geralt supported his forehead and waited for him to stop dry heaving after there was nothing left for him to throw up. He helped him to straighten up again, and patted his back. The gesture was supportive but a little bit distant.

Jaskier moved away. He was annoyed with himself. His breath was strained and it was difficult for him to focus on the horizon.

‘Breathe through your mouth, ignore the smell, and let’s keep walking.’ Geralt dragged Jaskier forward, and helped him to navigate in between the bodies.

Geralt made a point of not counting how many there were. And after a moment, he kept his eyes up too. He felt bad for Jaskier who was clearly struggling, and still felt sick. ‘Have some water.’ He offered him his flask. ‘Or try, at least.’

Jaskier sipped on the water in silence. Physically, he felt better the further away they walked, but his mind kept racing.

‘You shouldn’t have felt compelled to do this,’ Geralt said, finally. ‘And I know it’s not really… your area. But it was very kind, what you did.’ Geralt tried his best to sound neutral.

‘ _Kind_?’ Jaskier seemed confused by the word. ‘I suppose that’s one way to describe it.’ He sounded hurt and looked away. 

They walked on in silence. As they headed for the closest inn, Jaskier remained unwilling to speak. By the time they reached their destination Geralt was finding Jaskier’s silence unbearably oppressive. For the first time since they met, he was desperate to hear his voice. 

Nothing. Not even when he paid for the rooms. Jaskier just stood there, watching. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending with Jaskier? The idea is inconceivable, really. Impossible. 
> 
> But it’s at least worth a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around! I hope you enjoy the last chapter and the bonus scene ❤️
> 
> Thanks again to Kelly for helping me through the most vulnerable stages of this project and always being there for me. I am so grateful to the wonderful people from our GC who have been amazing, and so welcoming. Checking in with you is what made this experience great for me. And thanks to [Goshdraws](https://goshdraws.tumblr.com/). Your feedback made all the difference and I miss you ❤️ 
> 
> And then [valdomarx (cptxrogers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers) is responsible for my happiest day since I started publishing anything online. Your writing is brilliant and your comments and help are precious to me. Thank you ❤️
> 
> Also, extra thanks to [thelaststock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastsock/pseuds/thelastsock), [katesierra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katesierra/pseuds/katesierra), and [readinghere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/readinghere/pseuds/readinghere) for your continuous support and encouragement. Seeing you come back every week means so much ❤️
> 
> Part 2 is in the works but will take a fair bit of time. I called it _The Autumn of Royal Celebrations_. It's going to involve even more drama, royals (as the title suggests), magic, folklore and evil curses. At the centre we have some intense Geraskier dilemmas which force Jaskier to choose between meeting social expectations and fighting for what he actually wants. It's harder than it seems. We had a fair bit of Jaskier chasing after Geralt so it's time to turn the tables 😛
> 
> I'll keep you up to date if you follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlaireSeton) or [Tumblr](http://oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [My entry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687111) for [Geralt Fluff Week](https://geraltfluffweek.tumblr.com/) is up now. 
> 
> Please remember to give your love to [LovelyRita1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967). We all need some Geraskier happiness in our lives, and she continually delivers heartwarming feelings disguised as fics 😍 
> 
> Also, if you're a fan of imagery and atmospheric, dream-like writing, please check out [Gryphonheart's fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryphonheart/pseuds/Gryphonheart). They focus on the game characters but can hypnotize anybody with even a vague interest in _The Witcher_ into submission. Ro, it's a joy to have you around. You are so supportive and kind. Your comments, and Victorian dresses make me happy ❤️

The closed border meant customers were scarce, and the inn was nearly empty. The place had an unsettling, ghostly feel. As they walked through the front door, Jaskier had glanced at the name, the World’s End, stopped for a moment, and stared at it. It was as if a premonition hit him, eyes wide, hope draining from his face. 

Geralt wasn’t eager for them to go into their rooms, having premonitions of his own. He was convinced things were about to turn nasty and hated the uncomfortable wait much more than he ever hated a confrontation. A tongue-tied Jaskier was not something he was prepared for. Not as bad as a self-sacrificing Jaskier, for sure, but bad nevertheless.

No way he could stay quiet that long and yet, they got as far as an awkward climb up the stairs, the steps creaking underneath their feet, without a single world from Jaskier still. At the top of the stairs there was a long corridor. All doors were open, not a single soul in sight.

They stood in front of their respective rooms, almost ready to go in when, finally, Jaskier broke the silence. ‘That was… _something_.’ 

Geralt was relieved to hear him talk. Not interested in reliving the experience, he wanted to skip right to the point. Only _the_ _point_ proved difficult to discern, let alone skip to. ‘Listen, I know you…’ He hesitated, and his voice was unusually raspy. Geralt barely started and was already getting frustrated, unable to articulate any fucking thing.

Jaskier seemed startled by that beginning. ‘No, Geralt. You really don’t need to...’ he paused, flustered.

‘No, I really think I should.’

‘Just forget it,’ he blurted, sounding more insistent than he intended. ‘It’s not like I was _hiding_ this before. It was far from a _dark_ _secret_.’ He seemed slightly amused by the idea but his smile was sad. 

‘No, but-’ Geralt started again.

‘It was pretty obvious. And because you didn’t seem to see it that way, I just…’ He didn’t quite know how to describe what he ‘just’ did. ‘But I did try. And even at minimum you were finding it…’ he considered a couple of options before arriving at ‘…intrusive.’

‘Sure.’ Geralt nodded lightly. He was just about ready to continue but Jaskier wouldn’t let him.

‘So don’t worry about it.’ Jaskier took a deep breath. ‘I mean, regardless of what you might think, I wouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that today…’ He was getting agitated by the memory. ‘Well, in my wildest dreams I wouldn’t have been able to imagine a shitshow of such magnificent proportions. To be fair, I had _no clue_ I’d be capable of that… but I just really went with it, didn’t I?’ He seemed to find that half tragic, half funny. 

‘And I’m glad I did,’ he concluded, confidently. ‘Even _if_ it was all just a morbid joke to them. Even seeing what I saw. And even if it made this the perfect time for you to state you don’t want me. Like, out loud, directly, using words, not through whatever-the-fuck you did before… looks, stares, grunts, movements, sighs… any physical manifestation available, I suppose.’ 

Geralt grunted uncomfortably in response, and Jaskier just nodded, resigned.

‘Exactly... although,’ he started again, remembering a distant mountaintop, ‘I can recall _some_ words. Quite a few, actually. I guess that task required extra measures. And it wasn’t to this exact end but it was _pretty_ close. There was a significant proximity to the issue at hand, there, I’d say. So it’s not like I wasn’t _aware_ of what you were trying to convey. You can’t exactly _surprise_ me now. It’s not the most important thing, really.’ 

He suddenly realised something, and blinked a few times, obviously unsettled by the idea. ‘I definitely didn’t do this to exert any pressure,’ he added, quickly. ‘I’m not hoping for anything. I’m not…’ He stopped himself from saying ‘delusional’, worried he might be making the situation worse. ‘I just didn’t want you to die. That’s all. That’s hardly a horrible crime.’ He was just about ready to finish but then hesitated a bit, knowing his effectiveness was highly questionable. 

‘It seemed like the right strategy at the time,’ he said in the attempt to justify himself. ‘It was worth a shot. I did the right thing. I’d do it again, if needed. I guess it makes me a bit more useful.’ He realised he was starting to sound bitter. ‘You’ve always been a great friend, Geralt. You did so much for me. So…’ he did his best to sound perky but failed ‘…does this even matter?’ 

‘I think it-’ Geralt attempted.

‘I _know_ you don’t feel the same way. You’ve made that _abundantly_ clear… in hundreds of ways… _for years_. So you don’t have to worry as far as _clarity_ is concerned.’ 

It didn’t take long for Jaskier to get worked up. He just kept going, and his discussion with himself was becoming increasingly heated. ‘And it’s not like this changes anything now, right? Or does it?’ He wondered for a second. ‘Are you going to leave because of it?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, his thoughts running ahead at a frantic pace. ‘Fuck… I said it out loud and we’re done now, aren’t we?’ He seemed shocked by the realisation. 

‘Jaskier-’

‘It doesn’t matter that I… I mean, regardless of what I implied before… and what I did, sure. Why would you want me whining in your ear, now that you know? Feeling guilty… and for something nobody should feel guilty about, by the way,’ he sighed, his frustration slowly transforming back into sadness. 

‘Ja-’

‘But can I change anything by saying this?’ he just kept going. ‘No… You might feel like you’re not doing the right thing by staying, regardless. And we can’t have that.’ 

He was now upset by his imaginary conversation with Geralt, who was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he was not allowed to participate.

‘Well, it’s not your fault,’ Jaskier continued. ‘It’s quite certainly beyond _our_ control. If I did have a choice in this matter… you know, _ehm_ … there are _safer_ , less deadly, more welcoming options out there. Let’s face it.’ 

Geralt just blinked a few times and Jaskier nodded as if he was trying to convince himself. 

‘Although, none of them is…’ Jaskier threw a glance at Geralt and stopped, weirdly shy all of a sudden, backtracking again. ‘ _Regardless_... my ideal romantic adventures _do not_ involve waiting to hear that your dead-crisp-of-a-body was discovered in the forest, or putting my life on the line, just to find out it was actually some fucked up game. And yet, the consequences are real and now I have to…’ He suddenly realised something. ‘While also knowing that, of course…’ He slowed down, his mind racing again. ‘None of this would have happened if you…’ He stopped. 

‘If I _what_?’ Geralt was glad to finally break through the flood of words.

Jaskier didn’t dare to say it. ‘I meant what I said to her, you know,’ he started again. ‘I _really_ did. But there are those days when… sometimes I believe the bullshit she spews. Because it’s hard… it’s like, fucking… swimming against the current from morning till night. It’s pushing, and prodding, and trying. It’s… Sometimes you’re a bit much, Geralt.’

‘ _I’m_ a bit much?’ Geralt’s confusion was turning into anger. ‘I didn’t make _any_ of this happen. I _never_ asked-’

‘But the way you treat me… sometimes. It’s like I’m nothing more than an annoying child.’

‘That’s because sometimes you act like one.’ Geralt raised his voice in anger. ‘I told you to leave. What the fuck were you thinking?’ 

Jaskier was genuinely hurt this time. 

Geralt felt a sudden pang of guilt which _almost_ stopped him. ‘Everything I’ve done was to avoid what just happened. Let alone what could have happened. But _no matter_ what I do… there you are. It’s like you have a fucking death wish. It’s like you _want_ me to give you a hard time.’

‘ _I_ have a death wish? And _I_ want...’ Jaskier laughed, sounding borderline hysterical. He shook his head in pure frustration. 

‘Yes, _you_.’ Geralt was getting carried away, and decided to just give into it, no reservations. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that you ask for too fucking much?’ 

‘I never asked for anything. I _offered_.’

‘Don’t _fucking_ start…’ Geralt raised his voice again and Jaskier flinched slightly. ‘All you do is _want_ and _ask_. Every time I look at you… you’re like a fucking human-shaped question mark. A ball of fucking need and hope, demanding more than I can give.’

‘But I just…’ Jaskier stared at Geralt for a moment, looking as if he was slapped in the face. 

Geralt hated the sight. The thought that he just finished what Aliya had started crossed his mind. And he did a good fucking job too. 

Jaskier looked much more hurt and shocked than he had under the threat of a sword. He blinked a few times, shaking slightly. ‘How did we even get here, hm?’ he asked, his voice faint. ‘Not that bloody long ago, I was perfectly happy...’ He was determined to get back on track, and desperate to ignore Geralt’s last words ‘...chasing after women who like my singing. This…’ Both his hands motioned towards Geralt. ‘This… was far from my plan, believe me.’ 

He sighed angrily, but his voice was breaking again. His mind was working against him, frantically replaying Geralt’s words. He forced himself to speak again. ‘I could cope at first, I _really_ could. But then… I honestly don’t know how.’ He stopped, realised what he was doing and got angry with himself. ‘What am I even saying? Why am I even...’ His breath turned shaky. 

He stared at Geralt. It was clear he was craving some reassurance. Perhaps he was still hoping Geralt would take back what he said. He was strangely disoriented as if he was genuinely surprised by his own response, and disappointed with the both of them. Geralt just stood there, confused. 

‘I’m sorry…’ Suddenly Jaskier seemed exhausted and resigned like a long-distance runner giving up a few meters before the finish line. ‘It’s not fair. What I’m doing. What we’re both doing, I suppose. It’s not fair. And I just can’t… anymore.’

He rubbed his temples and started again. ‘Back there, I’ve said enough. And I can’t take it back now, can I?’ He looked down, and his voice was growing weaker and quieter by the second. ‘And I _did_ mean every word.’ He punched out the last words with determination and strain as if admitting that again was more difficult than it was before. ‘I guess,’ he whispered to himself before speaking up again. ‘I just wish I could feel this way about someone who...’ He stopped again, feeling like there was a wall slowly growing between them. ‘Or, at least, who could appreciate…’ He shook his head, and closed his eyes for a moment. 

‘Listen...’ Geralt started again, but Jaskier just shook his head in response.

‘Well, emerging from this with a broken heart rather than a broken neck is, in itself, a success of a kind.’ He laughed and it was the saddest laugh Geralt has ever heard. ‘I _really_ don’t know what the fuck I was thinking...’ he said, gasping for air a bit ‘...all this time.’ He was clearly on the verge of tears but managed to stay calm, his breathing restricted.

‘Jaskier…’

‘No, _don’t_. I’ve had enough already.’ He moved away from him and walked into his room. ‘This is what we’re going to do,’ he stated, his tone of voice suddenly assertive. ‘We’re going into these lovely, separate rooms, having an uneventful, restful night, and tomorrow… we probably should say goodbye and go our separate ways. _Goodnight_.’

He shut the door in front of Geralt’s surprised face. 

***

Geralt walked down the stairs with a mix of emotions so complex even somebody with Jaskier’s writing talents would struggle to put them into words. Lucky for him, from the outside, it looked a lot like indifference.

‘Is there a sorceress in this town?’ he asked the barman, calmly.

‘Oh, yes, Gina. I can ask somebody to take you to her.’ He waved towards one of the boys at the back.

‘That would be very helpful,’ Geralt said, while placing a few coins at the counter. ‘Is it not too late?’

‘Absolutely not. She’s always eager to help.’ The barman hesitated for a moment. ‘She is a bit… unusual.’

‘Is that a concern?’ Geralt already had his fill of unusual sorceresses, and had dealt with more drama than he could handle in a day. 

‘No, just a fair warning. She does know how to solve a problem, though.’

‘That’s all I need.’ He smiled, faintly.

***

‘Welcome, Witcher!’ Gina seemed surprisingly enthusiastic.

Out of all the places he’d seen a sorceress use to trade, Gina’s was the cleanest and the most orderly. Everything on the shelves was perfectly arranged, not a single object misplaced. Gina’s red hair was tied back tightly. A healthy-looking, well-fed black cat was brushing against Geralt’s calf the moment he walked in. 

‘At this time of night?’ she asked, a faint note of concern in her voice. ‘It must be an emergency.’

‘In some sense, perhaps.’

‘Are you buying or selling?’

‘Buying.’

‘Witcher's elixir, maybe? Black Blood? Black Seagull? White Seagull? Poisons? Antitoxins? Painkillers? Enhancements?’

‘No, not the usual.’

‘Then, what seems to be the problem?’

‘I have a friend…’

She raised one of her eyebrows, and looked highly suspicious. ‘That special kind of a friend who is actually yourself?’

Geralt seemed slightly confused by her response. ‘No, a real friend,’ he said, firmly. 

‘Right… say no more.’ She grabbed a little bottle and triumphantly set it on the counter.

‘What is that?’

‘A love potion. My own recipe. _Very_ effective.’

‘No, that won’t be necessary. I’m afraid my friend is already… interested.’ He let out a frustrated sigh. 

‘Ah.’ She took the previous bottle away and quickly grabbed another.

‘What’s that?’

‘It makes people fall out of love. Difficult at first. For both sides, usually.’ She looked a bit sad for a second. ‘But everything goes back to normal, eventually. At least in most cases.’ She nodded, encouragingly.

‘No, I don’t think I want that.’

‘Interesting.’ She waited.

‘Can you be discreet?’

‘Nobody around here even knows who you are, Geralt of Rivia.’

Geralt looked unimpressed but continued regardless. ‘My friend is, amongst other things, a man.’

‘And that’s a new… development for you?’

‘We could call it that.’

She looked around for a bit and grabbed a little jar. ‘Here we go. It will give him a good time even if you’re clumsy.’

Geralt seemed a bit overwhelmed.

‘Come on,’ she encouraged him, eagerly, ‘take it. But be careful. It does increase sensitivity.’ 

‘He _definitely_ doesn’t need that.’

‘You have to trust me,’ she nodded and smiled lightly. ‘Works like a dream. Pure magic.’

‘I’m really not sure if…’

‘You’re worried you wouldn’t know what to do?’ She seemed genuinely worried. 

‘At this point,’ he burst out, aggressively, ‘he’s close even when I try _not_ to do anything. So, no. I don’t think I’d struggle.’ He froze, surprised by his own response.

‘He might need more than that,’ she stated with perfect composure. Her fingers were gently tapping on the lid of the jar.

Geralt’s eyes were growing wider. He was quite ready to walk out. But then he actually gave it a thought. ‘That,’ he shook his head, resigned, ‘would not be a problem either. He tends to be direct and open about what he wants and feels… to an excruciating extent.’

‘How is that bad?’ She sounded genuinely curious.

‘He cares so much… it’s disturbing.’

‘Do you…’ She tilted her head, looking at him, closely, ‘need something to soothe your nerves?’

Geralt blinked a few times and stared at her in pure disbelief. ‘I kill monsters for a living.’

‘You do realise that causes problems rather than offers solutions in this context?’

He was getting frustrated again. ‘There’s nothing wrong with what I do!’ He took a deep breath. ‘Witchers are not…’ He sighed. ‘But _he_ … he’s just impossible. He keeps escalating until he gets what he wants. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. It’s relentless. He keeps looking at me as if…’ He sighed again, more nervously this time. ‘It’s a constant… and he _does_ manage. He pushes until…’ He noticed he was breathing fast, his anger turning into something else. ‘Fuck… So I guess I have no choice now, _do I_?’ 

The sarcastic tone he was aiming for didn’t quite hit home. Then, he realised he was blaming Jaskier again and seemed surprised, finally noticing a pattern. ‘Although what he did,’ Geralt’s voice grew softer, ‘was impressive. It _really_ was. And I couldn’t even thank him properly.’ He stopped, running through the recent events in his head again, aggravated by his own conclusions.

Gina sighed, becoming impatient. ‘This,’ she pushed the jar towards him, ‘is gentle, perfectly safe, no dangerous ingredients, no side-effects. You could eat it out of the jar right now.’ 

He looked back at her, thrown off a bit. He was starting to find it funny, but fought to stop himself from smiling.

‘Not that you should,’ she continued, ‘although you can, as I said.’ She nodded lightly, effortlessly sustaining a cool look of a dispassionate professional. ‘And on the day it won’t… get in the way, regardless of what you choose to do.’

Geralt just stared at her, clearly skeptical.

‘No friction,’ she added, as if to clarify. 

‘No, I understand.’

‘Relaxes muscles. Helps with-’

‘Fine.’ He breathed in sharply, ready to pay just to stop her from going further. ‘I’ll take it.’

‘Excellent.’ She looked extremely happy with herself as she collected the payment. ‘Well, good luck.’ 

‘Thank you,’ he said reluctantly. 

He was just about to leave when she stopped him again.

‘You do know this is not about sex, though, right?’

‘This…’ Geralt raised up the jar looking increasingly incredulous, ‘is not about sex?’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Than what is it about?’

‘You decide.’

He waited for her to continue but she didn’t.

‘There is also one important thing you should give him, though,’ she added, as he approached the door. ‘Not something I can sell, sadly.’

‘And what is that?’

‘A fucking break.’

Geralt failed to repress a smile this time. ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ he assured her.

‘Please do.’ She smiled.

***

On his way back he saw a glimmer of movement ahead of him. The moon was high and bright, and his eyes were cutting through the darkness with ease. He followed along, and cut the corner. 

Suddenly he saw a deer standing in the middle of the quiet, sleeping town. It seemed out of place, and was looking away with weird, misplaced pride. Its chest was puffed. Somehow it was difficult to imagine it anywhere but in a deep, calm forest or on top of a picturesque hill, soaking in the sunshine. But it was there, still and attentive, seemingly unaware of Geralt’s presence, its antlers like a bright stain in the dark. 

‘You’re looking a bit too majestic to be somebody’s dinner,’ he said half to the deer, half to himself. He clapped to scare it away but the deer seemed undisturbed. It just looked straight at him with interest, ears twitching. Geralt moved closer. ‘Come on, don’t be stupid. Get away.’ He said the words as he felt he should, but didn’t really mean it. 

Still nothing, and as he walked ahead, he found himself surprisingly close to the animal.

‘There’s a price for being so trustful and you won’t like it.’

The deer stretched his head forwards as if aiming for Geralt’s hand.

‘For fuck’s sake, I don’t have anything you can eat.’

But the deer was not hungry. It just pushed its muzzle against his hand and Geralt pet it, with an unlikely sense of awe. 

‘I hate to admit it…’ Geralt took a deep breath which turned weirdly shaky on exhale. ‘But you might have a point.’ 

***

The next morning Geralt looked around the empty corridor and hesitated for a moment. Finally, he knocked on Jaskier’s door, and waited. There was no sound. 

He knocked again, louder this time. ‘Jaskier?’

There was a bit of shuffling. Something fell to the ground. Then silence again. Geralt was getting impatient and was ready to pull on the handle when suddenly the door cracked open. Jaskier looked out, let him in and only took a quick, hesitant glance at him before moving back and turning away. 

The curtains were drawn, and the room was relatively dark. His things were scattered around. The bed was a complete mess of pulled sheets and disarranged pillows. There was parchment lying on the duvet. Geralt saw the lute sticking out from underneath the bed. Jaskier seemed embarrassed. He gathered the dispersed pages as if they were shameful evidence of a crime. He kept rearranging things as if to justify staying away from Geralt who, despite Jaskier’s best efforts, still managed to notice that his face was swollen a bit, eyes reddened. 

‘Are you-’ he started, sounding concerned but Jaskier didn’t let him finish.

‘Why don’t we just forget all about what I said yesterday? Hm?’ His voice was a bit shaky but confident. ‘Let’s act like none of this happened and just keep moving. I promise I won’t cause any issues. No _demands_ of any kind, I swear.’ It took a lot of his effort to mention ‘demands’ so casually, and some feelings still showed on his face despite his best efforts to hide them.

He noticed that Geralt was trying to say something and, as before, was unwilling to listen. ‘Just don’t,’ he cut him off, quickly. ‘It’s fine. I’ll be fine. It was silly of me. Very silly, really. It’s just… you wanted to know and I thought… but obviously… it doesn’t mean a thing, now, does it?’ He smiled, nervously. ‘And we weren’t under any real threat there, were we? So… it makes no difference.’

‘Jaskier, please...’

‘I shouldn’t have suggested we go our separate ways. That’s clearly a terrible idea. We both know that right?’ He flinched a little. ‘I just… it’s just painful sometimes, you know. From the very beginning it was and yet I could not stay away, could I?’ He laughed uncomfortably and stared at Geralt, his eyes growing wider by the second. 

‘Can I just-’ 

‘We should keep going… I’m almost ready’. He crammed yesterday’s clothes into his bag, and struggled to do it up because his hands were shaking a bit. 

Geralt took a step closer and Jaskier turned to him swiftly, looking increasingly upset. ‘Just give me a break, Geralt, please. Will you? It’s been difficult, all of this. And yes, gods know, I have little to complain about considering what could have happened but-’ 

Geralt was quite amazed by the spectacle. He ignored Jaskier’s attempts to look busy and moved a little closer again. 

Jaskier jumped back as if brunt, and his back bumped into a wall. He could no longer hide looking slightly teary-eyed and disoriented. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he tried to sound intimidating but was clearly failing. 

‘Can I say something?’ 

Jaskier just nodded in response but looked uneasy, scared even. 

‘I appreciate what you did. No one has ever…’ Geralt looked away for a moment and took a deep breath. ‘In general, you tend to be the only one who…’ He stopped again, increasingly huffy, then decided to skip to the most relevant part. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’

‘I know,’ he said simply, and it sounded like he really meant it, which was something Geralt welcomed with relief. ‘It’s just a byproduct of where we are, I suppose.’ He sighed, still shaky. ‘But if you have to. If you _absolutely_ have to go. And I _understand_ if you do.’ There was an echo of yesterday's bravery in his voice. ‘Then, of course, sure.’ He made his best attempt to sound like he would accept any worst case scenario, but there was undeniable sadness radiating from his voice. ‘But _not_ today,’ he added with insistence. ‘Give me some time, just so-’

‘What you said, it was…’ Geralt struggled to find the right words. Judging by Jaskier’s face the stakes were unreasonably high. ‘Unsurprising but somehow… ehm… important to hear.’ It didn’t quite sound right. ‘It’s a stupid idea, as I said before. And risky. How the fuck would that even…’ He noticed Jaskier was looking hurt and stopped. 

They just stared at each other for a moment. Geralt was angry with himself and Jaskier seemed resigned, withdrawn as if he was trying to protect himself from whatever he might hear next. 

‘But…’ Geralt started again, ‘however irrational, _it is_ at least worth a try.’

The words resonated through Jaskier with an odd mix of restrained hope and confusion. ‘What?’ He looked at Geralt in disbelief. ‘ _Bollocks_ … What does that even mean?’

‘Trying…’ Geralt’s smile was a bit snide ‘…generally means making an attempt with a hope to succeed.’ He looked at Jaskier with renewed interest. 

Jaskier looked back, mouth agape with incredulity.

‘Just…’ Geralt started again, ‘don’t blame me when everything goes to shit.’

‘If… if you think this is funny.’ Jaskier looked away, trapped with the wall behind him. 

It took Geralt a single glance at his neck to see his pulse was racing like mad. ‘Calm the fuck down.’ He was about ready to lose his patience but stopped himself, following his own advice. ‘I’m not leaving or joking. I’m not…’ He grunted, frustrated. ‘You’re right, you understand? I’m trying to fucking agree with you here.’

Jaskier looked back at him and laughed nervously. Then stopped abruptly, and grasped for a deeper breath with Geralt just inches away, nonchalantly grabbing his shoulder to keep him still. His other hand ran up Jaskier’s neck, in an equally matter of fact way, making him freeze in place as he slowly realised that it was, in fact, actually going to happen. ‘ _Seriously_?’ He sounded more shocked than he’d like. ‘Geralt, I…’ he started, voice soft, eyes turning dewy.

‘Did you _want_ me to tell you to fuck off?’ Geralt seemed to be teasing but the question appeared genuine.

‘No… what? No, of course not.’ He shook his head, staring at Geralt, stupefied. ‘This is… ehm… _fine_.’ For a moment, he was astounded by the inadequacy of that description.

Geralt didn’t mind. He did, however, seem a bit worried. ‘But don’t get your hopes up because we’re not looking at a bright future here.’

‘We… we’re not?’

‘No. We’re taking this one day at a time… keep expectations low.’

‘Sure… of course, yes, right… no expectations to speak of. It wouldn’t cross my mind… I mean… me and expectations? How would that even...’

Geralt ignored Jaskier’s babbling, leaned towards him, and moved his thumb along his jawline, thoughtful, focused and slow. That earned him some much needed silence.

He pushed him gently against the wall, and he could feel Jaskier’s chest moving faster and faster, until his breath became audible. Finally, he moved closer and just barely brushed his lips against Jaskier’s. He undeniably enjoyed keeping him there, all tense, shaky, in a state of a mild shock. Then he moved away slightly before leaning back in for a deeper kiss, and felt Jaskier relax in his arms. He just held him for a moment, waiting for his rushed gasps to match his own, slow, steady breath.

In the end, he extended his arms to take a good look at him, and tilted his head a bit as he assessed his disheveled hair and dazed eyes. ‘That wasn’t too bad for you, was it?’ 

‘Well,’ Jaskier started, sounding breathy, ‘I guess that depends on how you feel about it.’

‘Hmm…’ he hummed, and his eyes narrowed. ‘I’d better double check.’

***

‘Geralt?’

‘Yes?’

‘What kind of narrative resolution is that? The war rages on… and you fuck my brains out?’

‘It’s definitely not something you can write about in your song.’

‘No, definitely not.’

They were walking through a winding forest path that led out of town. The day was bright and tranquil. Roach was rested, and playful. She would occasionally nudge Geralt’s head with her muzzle, nickering softly. All the events of the past few days seemed hazy and unreal. The war was just a distant nightmare. 

Geralt thought about what Jaskier said for a minute. ‘Just say we were humbled by the experience but realised we owe it to all those who died to have the courage to live on.’ He weighed the words in his mind for a minute. ‘People love clichéd shit like that’. He smiled, pleased with his solution.

Jaskier reluctantly noted it down as he walked. ‘Yes, but isn’t that a bit disrespectful?’ He didn’t seem happy. ‘To think of the sheer number of people who were slaughtered just in the last couple of days. Shouldn’t we…’

‘Is there anything meaningful you can say about it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jaskier sighed. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Your audience will not want an actual representation of war regardless.’ He sounded convinced. ‘Not when they are drinking with their friends. It’s too heavy. It needs to be dramatic… but not _too_ dramatic.’

‘Yes, I think that’s right.’ 

‘And they are definitely not ready for the story of Aliya and Lianna. I don’t think we were either.’

‘No, we _really_ weren’t.’ Jaskier kept thinking. ‘That really _was_ weird.’ He stopped for a second, realised something, and continued, a bit unsettled. ‘Didn’t they effectively commit mass murder to, you know… release you from your iron closet? So you could, ehm… finally dock your ship at this lovely port?’ Jaskier gracefully pointed at himself as if it wasn’t clear what he was trying to say. ‘You know, make me sing?’

‘Jaskier...’ 

‘Bite that crumpet? No…’ he stopped himself. ‘That one _definitely_ doesn’t work.’ 

‘Don’t make me regret surviving this.’ Geralt shook his head, annoyed.

‘What they did…’ Jaskier seemed serious again ‘…that’s extreme measures by _any_ standard.’

‘However,’ Geralt lit up, suddenly, ‘as far as _singing_ goes, I do make you better.’ 

‘What?’ Jaskier was distracted and didn’t understand. ‘Of course you do. That’s always been the idea. You make my lyrics more authentic.’

‘I wasn’t convinced at first but your new work I can appreciate.’ 

‘Oh, really? Well, you did like-’ 

‘Although…’ Geralt cut him off. ‘I wouldn’t say it has lyrics. It’s different. It’s still clearly about me, though.’ He nodded. ‘Also, before, you were beating around the bush a bit. You’d never _quite_ get to the crux of the matter, just meander around the point you were trying to make. It lacked directness.’ 

He thought about it for a second. ‘But now…’ he continued with a smirk, ‘it feels like you are extremely close to the subject. Right in it, I’d say. And there’s no needless ambiguity.’ He looked at Jaskier, gauging his response. 

‘There’s elegance in simplicity,’ Geralt announced with the tone of an expert. ‘I like that my name gets mentioned…’ he threw another glance at Jaskier ‘…a lot. And there are _still_ some other words scattered here and there but… it’s not contrived. Less bullshit… more honesty.’ 

Jaskier was getting a bit riled up already and Geralt continued, undeterred. ‘What I hear is definitely _no_ _t_ lyrics, not anything you would write down, really. There’s also plenty of repetition, but…’ Geralt nodded again, looking genuinely impressed ‘…that just gives it a good rhythm.’ He smiled at Jaskier who just raised one of his eyebrows in response. 

‘The sound definitely overpowers meaning,’ Geralt explained with glee, still nodding slightly. ‘And just when you think it’s all in the voice modulation, you realise it’s the breath work that _really_ does it. Quite primal… rather spontaneous. Nice build up… a clear high point. And the message… crystal clear despite the abstract content.’

Jaskier blinked a few times in disbelief, and then looked at Geralt with rising levels of suspicion. ‘I can’t help but notice you make this sound horribly one-sided,’ he said, finally, sounding unconvinced.

‘I’m not a singer or a writer.’ Geralt smiled, quite self-satisfied. ‘But it’s far from one-sided. It’s the kind of performance that _demands_ participation. It’s extremely engaging. In fact, unless I engage, there’s little to listen to.’

‘You don’t say.’

‘Yes. And in the past, it just felt like you were jumping around, showing off, begging for female attention. Now I feel like it’s _me_ who is accomplishing something.’ Geralt clearly enjoyed Jaskier’s baffled expression. ‘And the range is quite impressive,’ he added with genuine admiration in his voice. ‘The sound is… unexpectedly attractive, surprisingly assertive, and then suddenly turns _touching_ and _vulnerable_.’ Geralt seemed surprised by his own conclusions. ‘Hauntingly beautiful, when you think about it.’ 

Jaskier somehow managed to look equally insulted and touched by that review. ‘That was… many… many more words than I originally asked for.’

‘It feels good to be able to give you some honest praise for once.’

‘What you’re saying is... the pie finally has… ehm… filling?’

‘Let’s not take that metaphor any further than we need to.’

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something but then decided against it.

‘But since I’m not your only audience,’ Geralt continued happily, ‘and war is off the table, then maybe you should write about how friendship is crucial for surviving hard times. Some stability in the face of a crisis, a moment of peace amongst the growing chaos. They’ll like a good, strong male friendship… just not _too_ strong.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Jaskier seemed a bit thrown off.

‘You can add a glimpse of the truth here and there, just don’t go too far, of course.’ Geralt added quickly, sounding oddly warm and reassuring. ‘It might make this,’ he stopped to wave his hand about, pointing at each of them in turn, ‘easier to grasp.’

‘Yes, I suppose,’ Jaskier looked up, cautiously optimistic.

‘We don’t want to attract any attention.’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Everything stays the same,’ he stated a bit out of context. ‘ _Nearly_ the same,’ he emphasized, deep in thought. ‘Some problems clearly turned into… ehm… assets.’ He smiled to himself. ‘And since it’s clear I’m capable of meeting the demand, there’s no need for you to engage in your peacocking at every corner.’ 

Jaskier gasped, clearly offended, and was just about to comment but stopped himself again.

‘We travel,’ Geralt continued, sounding perfectly casual, ‘you have plenty of opportunities to perform wherever we go. You get your stories about the reckless butcher of evil monsters, just perhaps not _as_ reckless. Nobody gains from that.’

‘That’s true.’

‘I don’t have to give you ideas. You know what you’re doing.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Nothing, I just mean I trust you with your craft.’

‘You do?’

‘Of course.’

Jaskier stopped for a second, and then smiled to himself. ‘It’s an art, Geralt, not a craft.’

‘That’s what I meant.’

They walked in silence for a while. The wind moved lazily through the branches. The rustling of the leaves was soothing, the air humid and fresh. It was a beautiful day, one of those that feel neither too hot nor too cold. The sun was gentle on their faces. As they looked around, they noticed daffodils growing along a river bank, a sea of yellow, water murmuring in the background, calm and clear. 

‘Jaskier?’

‘Hm?’

‘Do you realise you only spoke up once since we left the town?’

‘Yes, I guess that’s true.’

‘It’s nice.’

‘Well, it just doesn’t feel like I need to but-’

‘No, it’s good, I like that.’

‘Well, I’m glad _you_ approve.’

THE END

  
  
  


**Bonus Scene**

(the previous day)

  
  


‘Oh,’ Gina lit up, ’I see you brought your friend with you. Welcome!’ She smiled at Jaskier. 

He nodded back sleepily.

‘We’ve ran out.’ Geralt plunked an empty jar on the counter.

‘Ah, I see.’ She took out another jar, looked back at them and added a few more.

‘Can I just ask…’ Jaskier turned to Gina, suddenly quite animated, glancing at Geralt with slight hesitation. ‘What’s _actually_ in it?’ He didn’t give her time to respond. ‘Because, I mean… I’ve had some successful nights in the past but this was something…’

‘Mhm,’ Geralt grunted in agreement. ‘It was good.’

‘That’s the understatement of the fucking century!’ Jaskier sounded insulted. ‘It was _incredible_! And it just felt so-’

‘Yes,’ Geralt added awkwardly just to stop Jaskier from talking. 

‘There were clearly some things that needed working out at first but _then_ … ’ He was not, in fact, planning to stop any time soon. ‘And normally I’d just get tired. He _definitely_ should have. But with _this_ … we went on and on. And it just kept _getting better_.’ 

His hands already started dancing in the air, and Geralt’s eyes were involuntarily following the movement. 

‘Some of that…’ Jaskier hesitated. _‘Some_ of that shouldn’t even be... physically possible?’ He was getting caught up in the memory, looking puzzled. ‘You wouldn’t believe. I definitely couldn’t.’ Jaskier shook his head, face a pure expression of awe, eyes bulging slightly. 

Geralt looked increasingly uncomfortable.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Jaskier continued, happily, ‘I’ve seen him after that bloody potion he drinks to fight. I know what magic can do to him, but still… _this thing_ ,’ he said, pointing at the jar as if it wasn’t obvious what he was referring to. ‘It seems to have strong physical _and_ psychological effects.’

Gina looked amused.

‘I mean, you’ve met the man.’ Jaskier took another quick, slightly nervous glance at Geralt. ‘To see him actually react so _positively_ to something.’ He seemed shocked by the idea. ‘And he was so patient. So attentive. So careful. He really listened. Sometimes I didn’t even… I mean, how could he even know, right?’ Jaskier thought about it for a second and shook his head, dismissing various possibilities. ‘And then… _suddenly._.. he turned so _kind_ and _tender_.’ 

Jaskier’s look softened for a second but he quickly shook off the feeling. 

‘It felt almost as if…’ he stopped, shocked by his own conclusions. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t dare to assume but he was so… _well_. Under any other circumstances there would be just one word for it. And, believe me, I’d know. And then he _even_ … He actually… ehm… he…’

He blushed and looked at Geralt who looked back. For a moment they brewed in that memory together, and their breathing quickened in unison. 

Jaskier awkwardly leaned on the counter but his hand was sweaty and started sliding with a low squeak. He withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. ‘It was…’ he took a deep breath and paused for a few seconds ‘… _completely_ out of character. Not something I’d _ever_ imagine.’

‘Jaskier, have some fucking mercy.’ Geralt raised his voice slightly and looked back at him, clearly aggravated. 

‘This…’ Gina pushed the jars towards them over the counter ‘…is just basic lube.’

THE END

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please [subscribe to me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaire_Seton) for more Geraskier content 😊 
> 
> If you like my writing please follow me [on Tumblr](http://oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co.tumblr.com/). I also post my poetry there, and reblog photos to set the mood for the next chapter. 
> 
> And there's my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlaireSeton).
> 
> Huge thank you to [Kelly](https://twitter.com/kneilsonphoto) for her continuous support, encouragement, great ideas and inspiration! I wouldn't have the guts to do this without you :)  
> [Rita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) has looked through every word of this fic multiple times and did an incredible job. You are an editing god and so kind! I couldn't be more grateful ❤️  
> Thank you, [Stephen](https://sdmcburney.tumblr.com/), for reading this and (so far) remaining my friend :D Also, your comments make everything better!  
> [Goshdraws](https://goshdraws.tumblr.com/) \- thank you for your help, chats, and comments!  
> And last but definitely not least, thank you to [Almighty Sound](https://www.facebook.com/AlmightySoundMusic/) for all her encouragement, help and support ❤️
> 
> As always, dedicated to [VN](https://variousnoises.tumblr.com/). For the good old times :)


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